


Freelance Good Guys: Unbreakable

by TheGreys (alienjpeg)



Series: Looming Gaia [29]
Category: Looming Gaia
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Death, Blood and Gore, Centaurs, Explicit Language, Fantasy, Forced Pregnancy, Magic, Sexual Content, Slavery, Team as Family, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25216699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienjpeg/pseuds/TheGreys
Summary: Elska sets out to free her clan from Kelvingyard’s clutches. Somehow, she returns with both more and less than she bargained for.
Series: Looming Gaia [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/833844
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5





	1. Break Up

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags for this one. There is a lot of potentially triggering content here, and while the story is a depressing slog, I promise it has an optimistic and very satisfying ending.
> 
> Check out the Looming Gaia blog for art, discussions, memes, and more: https://loominggaia.tumblr.com/

**[CHAPTER 1: BREAK UP]**

_LATE SUMMER, 6007_

Evan stepped into his office just after sunrise, where a fat stack of paperwork awaited him. There were job contracts to be sorted, clients to contact, and crewmen to dispatch. Being stuck in this office was the worst part of his day. The sooner he got it over with, the better, he thought.

The wooden chair creaked as Evan sat down. Seconds later, he jumped as the door flew open and slammed against the wall. Elska stood on the other side, holding a bulging, burlap sack in her right hand. Her hooves clomped heavily against the wooden floor as she made her way up to Evan.

Without a word, Elska stopped before him and dropped the sack onto his desk. The top burst open, spilling gold coins everywhere. Evan stared at the gold, then quirked an eyebrow at her. “Good morning, Elska. May I help you?”

“You will find my clan,” she said, her flat tone as imposing as ever.

Evan picked up the coins that rolled onto the floor, scooping the rest back into the bag. “Excuse me?”

“I saved many coins since I joined your crew,” she told him, gesturing to the bag. “Now I trade them to you for your service. The Kelvingyard Company captured my clan three years ago. You will help me find them.”

The captain blinked, at a loss for words. Surely she couldn’t be serious? Anyone else would have given up that search before it began. He cleared his throat and said, “Er, I mean no offense, but do you really think we’ll be able to find them after all this time?”

Narrowing her blue eyes, the centaur repeated, “We _will_ find them.”

“Elska,” Evan sighed, “I respect your determination. I really do. But you must understand that that the Kelvingyard Slaving Company has direct ties to the Evangeline government. I shall not antagonize a Great Kingdom. We’re just not equipped to deal with the fallout.”

Elska took a step forward, fists clenched at her sides. Her eyes carried all the intensity of a thunderstorm when she said, “Our policy is to harm no innocents, help those in need, and kill only in necessity. You wrote this policy yourself!” She pointed to the wooden sign nailed to the wall just behind Evan. Upon it was the Good Guy code, written just as she described. “I am in need, so you must help me.”

Evan scrubbed at his tired eyes. He said, “You know I only accept contracts if I’m ninety-nine percent sure we can handle them. A job like this, I’m not even nine percent sure we’d survive. I’m very sorry, but I just can’t approve this one. If you want your clan back, our best bet is to browse the Evangeline slave market and legally buy them back one at a time. That’s assuming they’re still available, of course.” He tied the sack of gold closed again and pushed it towards her.

The centaur fell silent for a long moment, scowling down at his desk. Evan braced himself, half-expecting her to flip the desk or swing at him. Instead, she simply turned around and said, “Very well. Then I will find them on my own.”

She began walking out the door. Evan’s brows jumped. He nearly tripped over the corner of his desk as he scrambled to follow her. “Wait! You can’t go alone, that’s madness! You’ll be captured the moment you cross the border!”

Elska stopped on the trail, her golden braid flipping dramatically as she whipped her head around to face him. “I have no choice!” she snapped. “If my closest allies will not join me, then I must go alone! I am leaving now, and I will not return without my people!”

“Elska! Stop!” Evan called, but she paid him no mind as she continued storming down the dirt path. The captain’s brain raced his heart. He knew Elska, and he knew that her hard-headed nature would be the end of her if he did not intervene.

“Alright, alright! You win!” he blurted. The centaur stopped, turning to face him again. He hesitated. After a defeated sigh, he told her, “Just…give me a few days and I’ll see what I can do.”

*

Evangeline Kingdom was a comfortable territory for commoners. But for fae and gaians, it was an authoritarian nightmarescape where their kind were not permitted to live free. Evangeline Kingdom had made an enemy of magic, and so it made enemies of all Gaia’s magical peoples.

Elska did not know a single spell. But centaurs were capable of learning magic if they chose, and that was enough to make the Evangelites nervous. When all was said and done, Evan locked iron shackles around her wrists and forged documents registering her as his slave. It was the only way to get her across Evangeline territory safely.

Balthazaar and Isaac were already dispatched to another region, leaving only Lukas and Glenvar available for the job.

“You must stay in our sights at all times,” Evan warned Elska, “or else you’ll be considered a runaway and sent to the slave yard. The reclamation fee isn’t cheap, so please, just do as I say once we cross that border.”

The four of them hired a horse-drawn cart and rode it down the southern road. Their journey took two days, and then they found themselves at the Evangeline border. The road led them up to a checkpoint, marked by a tall stone wall and two manned watchtowers. Each tower was topped by a blue flag. Several Evangelite guardsmen guarded the open gate, clad in steel armor with swords sheathed on their hips.

Evan and his crew dismounted the cart some distance ago, for the driver was unwilling to go further towards blue territory. Their camping supplies were strapped to Elska’s back. Such a weight was too much for her human cohorts, but no burden to her. They were stopped at the gate by a human guardsman, who demanded identification.

Evan, Lukas, and Glenvar handed over their fake passports. The guardsman glanced at each document with little care, briefly glancing up at the mercenaries to see that they matched their descriptions.

This part always made Evan nervous. But having grown up in Evangeline Kingdom, he knew well that its officers were stretched too thin to hassle fellow commoners with much scrutiny. Even if they were caught with fake documents, he also knew that a little bribery went a long way.

Relief washed over the crew when the guardsman tossed their passports back to them. He addressed Evan when he said, “Alright, Mr. Dover, everything looks to be in order here. I just need to see some papers for that animal and I’ll let you be on your way.” He tipped his helmed head towards Elska, who regarded him with a scowl.

Evan reached into his rucksack and handed a folded piece of parchment to the man. In Ginger’s careful penmanship, it read,

“ _BILL OF SLAVE OWNERSHIP_

_Name – Gildy_

_Class/Species – Gaian/Centaur_

_Sex – Female_

_Description – Fair complexion, yellow hair and fur, blue eyes, heavyweight build_

_Bondmaster(s) – Benjamin Dover of Queenswater, Micheal Hunt of Rivermere, Wayne Kerr of Newell_

_This document has been officiated by…”_

The signature at the bottom was illegible, punctuated by a fake stamp of approval. But it seemed legitimate enough for the guardsman, who folded it again before returning it to Evan. He chuckled, “Gods, the muscles on this one! Fine stock you got here, sir. You wouldn’t be looking to sell it, would you?”

“Oh, no,” Evan replied quickly, tucking the document away. “Els—I mean, uh, Gildy here is priceless to me. I wouldn’t sell her for all the gold on Gaia.”

“Damn,” muttered the guardsman. He stepped aside and waved them through the gate. “Well, you folks have a pleasant day.”

The crew officially crossed the threshold into Evangelite lands, moving down the wide dirt road carved through the forest. It was still early in the morning, just before sunrise. The road was still quiet, but Evan knew that traffic would be bustling in just an hour or so.

They could see Kelvingyard Town up the hill just ahead. It was a simple but industrious settlement surrounded by stone walls. The buildings too were built mostly from stone, as dark and gray as stormclouds. Sturdy row houses lined the cobblestone streets, surrounding a vast marketplace. Vendors were still setting up shop as the mercenaries passed through.

The town was anything but inviting. Its stalwart walls, looming watchtowers, and austere architecture were constant reminders that this place sat right on the volatile Evangeline-Folkvar border. These two kingdoms had been at war since before Evan’s great grandparents were born.

But its most intimidating feature was the great, fortified compound that could be seen from any point in the town.

The compound was lined by watchtowers, each one manned by several archers. Its outer perimeter was crawling with Evangeline guardsmen on patrol. Evan pointed to the compound as they approached and explained, “That’s Kelvingyard just ahead. Everyone says Evangeline Capital is the heart of the blue kingdom. But if you ask me, Kelvingyard is the true heart and its slaves are the blood. This kingdom would shrivel and die without its free labor.”

“Looks like a feckin’ prison,” muttered Glenvar. “We ain’t set a foot in the place and I’m already depressed!”

Evan nodded. “It _is_ a prison. If a loose fae or gaian is caught in Evangelite lands, that’s where they’ll end up. At least until someone buys them, then it’s anyone’s guess where they’ll go. Could be anywhere from here to Glasstide.”

He turned to Elska and added, “Don’t say a word while we’re in there. As far as they know, you’re just my cargo-mule.”

Elska’s scowl deepened. “It is hard to believe you were born of this tribe, Captain! Your culture is sickening!”

“Hey! This may be my heritage, but it is _not_ my culture,” Evan said quickly. “I won’t accept it as such. The life I have in the Hollow— _that_ is my culture.”

The crew approached the front gate of the compound. They passed into something of a lobby, which was but a spartan room made entirely of stone, featuring only a few chairs, a wooden desk, and a human office worker seated behind it. After signing their fake names into a book at the desk, they waited among other people looking to buy and sell slaves.

Not all of the buyers were human, but they were all commoners. Elska’s eyes drifted around at them. She was unable to hide the disgust on her face. A dworf standing in the corner seemed to notice, for he glared back at her and rumbled to Evan, “Got one with an attitude problem, did you?”

Evan turned to him. “Excuse me?”

“Your centaur, she’s got spirit,” the dworf clarified, swirling his stubby, gray finger at her head. “You have to look out for that before you buy. Look ‘em right in the eyes, and if you see anything but fear, you don’t want ‘em. Trust me on that.”

“Heed his words, it’s true! Wish someone told me that a week ago!” added another man, a human sitting across from them. He held the end of a chain, its other end attached to a satyr’s wrist irons. The satyr’s wrists were bound together behind his back, with additional shackles around his ankles. A muzzle of iron bars was strapped around his horned head, covering his nose and mouth.

The man tipped his head towards the satyr and continued, “Got this one for next to nothin’. The salesman tried to warn me, said it was ‘spirited’. I didn’t know any better. Thought I was getting a real good deal until this beast went savage on my whole family! Bit my brother’s hand, took two fingers clean off before we got it under control!”

He gave the satyr a kick, shaking his head. “Wild son of a bitch, this one! That’s a problem with all the beast-folk, isn’t it? My satyr, your centaur…” He nodded towards Elska. “They’re all mean as sin and dumb as rocks! I’m exchanging this worthless thing for a couple of goblins. Never heard of a feeble little hobgoblin going feral in my life. Have you?”

Evan heard a deep snarl rumble from Elska’s throat. He squeezed her arm, silently begging her to stay in place as she tugged at his grip. If he weren’t there to reassure her, he knew her anger would get the best of her. She’d smash everyone in this room to paste. She was already shifting from hoof to hoof, glaring daggers at the man across from them, just aching to stomp his head in and prove his point.

Eventually, an armored officer called their fake names. They were led down a narrow corridor. At the end of the corridor was a heavy iron door which opened to the slave yard.

The yard was an outdoor space that reached far and wide, noisy with the chatter of slaves and their overseers. There was not a blade of grass to be found within the solid stone walls. The ground was worn down to packed dirt, not even a loose stone to be seen or thrown.

Gaians and fae were separated into two different “wings”, penned within iron fences on opposite sides of the compound from eachother. Magical peoples of all kinds roamed lifelessly around their perimeters, each and every one wearing iron shackles on their wrists.

The overseers were easy to identify, for they were all commoners clad in armor of steel and black leather. They carried an arsenal of iron weapons, mainly studded clubs and bullwhips to keep the slaves in line.

The air seemed polluted by anguish, sickening the crewmen with every breath. Lukas couldn’t stand to look at it any longer. He turned around with a great sigh and faced the cold, gray wall behind him.

Before long, a roshava wearing a crisp, blue suit approached the crew. He extended three of his four hands, shaking Evan’s, Glenvar’s, and Lukas’ all at once with a toothy smile on his face.

His flesh was red, typical of his kind, and his graying black hair was neatly combed in a short style. “Good morning, gentlemen! My name is Mr. Zaleesha, I’m a sales representative for the Kelvingyard Company. I understand you’re in the market for some slaves?”

Evan cleared his throat and replied, “Er, yes. We’re starting a business, you see, and we need some strong workhorses like this one here.” He gestured to Elska, standing behind him. “We would like to see all the centaurs you have available, please.”

Mr. Zaleesha’s eyes seemed to light up. He beamed, “Yes, yes, of course! We have over fifty centaurs available currently. I’m more than certain you’ll find some to meet your needs. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll have our boys round them up for you.”

The mercenaries waited, watching as several overseers flooded into one of the fenced sectors in a flurry of shouts and bullwhip cracks. In a brilliant display of efficiency, all several dozen centaurs inside were chained together by their shackles and led to the open area.

The slaves wore tattered rags or nothing at all. Some were well-muscled, others deathly emaciated and crawling with flies.

Kelvingyard’s slavers didn’t seem to discriminate. Centaurs of all sexes and ages were lined up before the mercenaries, from stumbling toddlers to shambling elders. Every one of them fell in line, silently turning their faces towards the ground as they awaited judgment.

Mr. Zaleesha returned with his big, artificial smile and said, “Here we are, gentlemen! A fine selection, wouldn’t you say? Browse all you like, and should you have any questions, I have answers.”

Evan glanced at Elska. The look on her face was one he never wished to see again, an expression heavy with repulsion, horror, and fear all at once as she gazed upon her enslaved kin. He patted her equine shoulder and said, “Tell me if you see a good one, Gildy. You’ll be working alongside them, after all.”

They walked down the long rows of slaves. Each slave avoided eye contact as if it would kill them. Elska looked upon each of their faces once, twice, and even a third time, but she saw not a single one she recognized.

“They…they are not here,” she admitted slowly. Disappointment burdened her tone so heavily that it was barely a whisper.

Evan returned to Mr. Zaleesha. The roshava clapped his four hands together and asked, “So, which of these fine specimens will you be taking home today?”

“None of them,” Evan told him flatly. “I think we’ve seen enough here.”

Mr. Zaleesha’s brows arched. “Really? Not a single one? Ah, but perhaps you overlooked a diamond in the rough!” He approached a male centaur with tawny-colored fur and curly, crimson hair. “Did you see this fellow here? Purebred Redridge stock from the Olive Plains! Look at the size of him! Strong as a draft horse and at least twice as smart! He can handle any job you throw at him, and he’ll be yours for just six thousand gold pieces!”

“Sorry,” said Evan. “We’re looking for a very _particular_ kind of centaur. Thank you for your time, but we’ll be looking elsewhere.”

“Hold on now!” Mr. Zaleesha added, spreading his four palms before him. “Sure, this fellow may not be exactly what you came for. But at the criminally low price of _five_ thousand gold pieces, how could you possibly leave without him?”

Evan shook his head. “We’re done here. Good day, sir,” he said, then he and his crew made their exit through the iron door.

*

Renting a depressing inn room with a view of the depressing city sounded less than appealing to the mercenaries, so they made their way out of Kelvingyard Town and set up camp in the wilderness outside its walls. They could just barely see the town through the trees, only a shadow on the horizon. Even looking at it from such a distance gave them chills, knowing what lied within.

Once they swept the site for listening ears, the crew could speak freely. Evan said to Elska, “I’m very sorry, friend. It looks like your clanmates were all sold off.”

“I will find the dogs who bought them,” the centaur blurted. “I will steal them back if I must!”

Poking at the campfire, Lukas told her bluntly, “You’ll get killed if you’re lucky. You really want to end up in there?” He pointed his chin towards Kelvingyard, peeking through the trees. “Don’t be stupid. We tried our best, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

Elska stamped her hoof. “Cowards!” she shouted. “Quitters! If they were your clan, you would not give up so easily!”

Evan raised his palms, speaking calmly as he said to her, “There’s no need to be rash. I understand you’re in a lot of pain, but our hearts don’t always know best. Use your head, Elska. Would your people want you to endanger yourself like this? Or would they want you to be free?”

“They would shame me for cowardice if I abandoned them! My ancestors would frown upon me for all eternity!” Elska roared. “Your feeble ways are not our ways! We are the People of Stone and Bone, we are relentless and unbreakable!”

“Elska, please think about—” Evan began, but the centaur swiped her steel warhammer and shouted over him,

“My people are suffering as we speak! I will find them and bring them to the Hollow, with or without you!”

Her crewmen protested, reached and lunged to stop her, but she was bolting away in a flash. They chased her for some distance before succumbing to their human limits. Glenvar wheezed and hacked, collapsing to his knees. The centaur sprinted off with the speed of a horse and the stubbornness of a mule, and they knew there was no chance of catching her on their own.

“She’s gonna…get snatched…by blue boys, Chief!” wheezed Glenvar.

Evan panted, “I know. It’s…it’s okay. She’ll end up back in Kelvingyard eventually.”

“So what do we do? Just camp in this shit-hole until someone drags her back?” asked Lukas.

Evan sighed, “We’ll check the slave yard tomorrow. If she’s not there, we’ll come back the next day.”

“What if she ain’t there? I ain’t stayin’ here longer than a week! Feck ‘er! If she wants to be stupid, that’s her problem!” said Glenvar, already walking back towards the campsite.

With an air of solemn confidence, Evan told them, “Trust me, she won’t run loose for more than a day or two. Let’s just make sure to get to the yard first thing in the morning before someone buys her.”

*

Elska trotted down the rural roads of the eastern Blue Valley. Trees became more scarce the further she travelled until the forest gave way to wide, open plains and a blue summer sky.

Occasionally she passed a horseback traveler or a wagon driver. The passersby scrutinized her, but when she glared back, they quickly averted their gazes and hurried on their way. Everyone she’d encountered so far seemed to be simple farmers, most of them human, all of them commoners.

She carried nothing but a rucksack full of food, a canteen, and a warhammer at her hip. But should she run out of food, vast cropfields of all kinds stretched over the plains as far as she could see. There was plenty to be foraged, enough to feed a whole city many times over. She could sustain herself for years in this bountiful land as she rescued her people, she thought.

Dotting the fertile landscape were large houses, colorful barns, and towering silos. It was some time in the early evening and the sun had already taken its toll on Elska’s fair skin. She meandered off the trail, cutting through a strawberry field to reach a barn in the distance.

She saw the short, long-eared silhouettes of goblins wandering nearby. Perhaps she could ask them for information as she rested in the shade of the barn.

“Hello! I have questions!” Elska called to the goblins in the field. They looked up at her warily, four of them total. As she walked closer, they fled together towards the barn. A farmhouse lie just beyond across another field. Elska broke out into a gallop and shouted, “Do not flee!”

The goblins huddled together, screaming in fear as she approached. But she only stopped before them and said, “I am looking for the People of Stone and Bone. They have been captured by Kelvingyard slavers and sold across this land. Tell me where I can find centaurs like myself.”

The goblins stared up at her, quivering in fright. They wore nothing but rags of burlap and the iron shackles on their wrists. They sunk lower when Elska bellowed, “Tell me now!”

Finally, an old goblin spoke. His long ears drooped low with age, green skin weathered like a well-worn shoe. “There are no centaurs around these parts. This is only a small family farm; your power isn’t needed here. I haven’t seen one of your kind since I was a _chulder_ in Kelvingyard.”

Elska narrowed her eyes. “Tell me who buys centaurs,” she said.

The old goblin replied, “Folks who need heavy lifting done, I suppose. I seen your kind sell for a lot. It must be rich folks who took your people.” He waved her away and added, “Now please, you have to go! If our master catches us talking to a runaway, we’ll all get the iron poker!”

“Come with me,” demanded Elska, offering her hand. “Join my quest and you will be free! We will fight these dogs together!”

The goblin shook his head and exclaimed, “No, no, miss! Please, leave us! Go!”

With that, he ushered the group away and they scurried off towards the farmhouse. Elska trotted along beside them and growled, “This is your chance to be free, and still you choose to serve a master! Where is your pride, creature?”

“We’ll all be caught and sent back to the yard!” another goblin told her. “Just get out of here and leave us be!”

“You are cowards! I will not let you shame yourselves this way!” growled Elska, and she jumped in the slaves’ path.

They shrieked and flailed as she snatched two of their wrists. The other two sprinted away into the farmhouse. Elska shouted after them, “Come back!” while she struggled to wrangle the elderly goblin and a younger female.

“Please, don’t! Don’t do this!” the old goblin begged. But Elska kept a firm hold on them, carrying them towards the house in pursuit of the others. The escapees disappeared behind the door, closing and locking it behind them.

Elska heard their muffled voices inside, calling, “Master! Help us!” She reared up on her hind legs and bashed her hooves against the door. It broke off its hinges and hit the floor with a loud thud.

Elska tossed her captives onto the floor. She pointed her finger at them and commanded, “Do not move!” Then she equipped her warhammer and slowly made her way further into the house.

The interior was humble and rustic, the furniture built to seat small, human-sized species. Nearly everything was made of wood, with a stone fireplace in the center of the sitting room. Elska passed through a corridor, listening to the panic breaking out in some other room.

She opened the first door she encountered. It led to a closet with a latrine inside. The next door opened to an empty bedroom.

Before Elska could open the last door in the hall, someone else did it for her. He was a human man with an unkempt brown beard and matching hair, likely middle-aged. Though he was large for his kind, he was nowhere near large enough to fight Elska on his own, and he seemed to know it when he staggered back into the room at the sight of her. The two goblins cowered against the wall behind him.

The man picked up a wooden stool, brandishing it as a weapon. “Oh, gods! Back! Back, you animal!” he shouted. Elska charged towards him without pause and bashed her hammer against his stool. The stool exploded into several pieces, leaving the man with nothing but one of its single broken legs.

“Tell me who you are!” demanded Elska, looming over him like a cloud.

The man backed himself against the wall, pointing the sharp end of the leg at her. “I’m the owner of this property!” he told her. “Get out of here! I don’t care who your master is, I’ll kill you if I have to!”

Elska raised her hammer and the man let out a fearful scream. The goblins screamed too, shielding their eyes when his head exploded. Elska’s hammer crashed through his skull, splattering the wall with blood and gore. His body slumped over with a thump. In that instant, he was dead.

Elska turned back to the goblins. “Now you serve no masters! Go forth and be free!”

She exited the house just as swiftly as she appeared. The other two slaves had disobeyed her, for the sitting room was empty when she passed through it. When she stepped outside, she saw one of them bolting down the road on a horse.

The man’s property now belonged to them, she thought, and they could do with his livestock as they pleased. She crossed the fields and headed for the next house on the horizon.

*

It was getting dark. Elska saw no slaves in the fields, so she approached the big, white barn on the property. The large doors were sealed shut with a padlock. Effortlessly she destroyed the lock with her hammer, then kicked the doors wide open.

Several frightened faces turned to face her. She could just barely see them in the darkness, five elven slaves getting settled into their bed rolls. They were sleeping among great stacks of hay and stored vegetables. Moonlight reflected off the edges of her hulking frame, smeared with blood.

Elska’s voice echoed off the lofty walls when she boomed, “I am looking for the People of Stone and Bone! They are centaurs like myself!”

The elves looked at one another, whispering things she could not hear. One of them told her, “There are no centaurs here.”

“Are you a runaway?” piped the tiny voice of an elfette.

“I am no slave,” said Elska. “I seek my clan, stolen away by the Kelvingyard Company. I wish to liberate them, and I will liberate you too if you join me on my quest!”

The elves exchanged another round of harried whispers. The one from before said to her, “You shouldn’t talk like that! You’ll get us all in trouble! We don’t know anything, so just leave!”

Elska’s expression hardened. She stamped her foot and snarled, “Cowards! Everywhere I go, nothing but spineless cowards! Do not choose to toil under a master any longer! Seize this chance to be free, you fools!”

But the elves were no bolder than the goblins, it seemed. They huddled closer together, all at once urging her to go away.

“We’ll get caught,” they said.

“We’ll be killed,” they said.

“There is no better life for us,” they said.

“Your salvation arrives, and still you choose to snivel away in the dark!” exclaimed Elska. “So be it! I won’t waste a moment more on you! Tell me where I may find my people, and I will leave you to suckle at eachother like the babes you are!”

“There are no—” one elf began, but another interrupted him and said,

“There’s a trainyard to the west, just outside Rivermere.”

“Rivermere,” Elska repeated. “What is this ‘trainyard’?” She said the word as if it were alien to her tongue.

The elf explained, “It’s a place where they build all the trains. I saw it with my own eyes a long time ago. They have centaurs there, lots of them. If you follow the train tracks west, you won’t miss it.”

Elska scrutinized the elf for a moment. He looked back at her through the darkness, eyes equally fearful and earnest. She knew no fae could tell a lie, so she tipped her head in gratitude before seeing herself out of the barn. The elves rushed to close the doors behind her.

Elska walked for hours across the moonlit plains. She followed the train tracks just as the elf said, running mostly parallel with a well-travelled dirt road. The natural lay of the land had been flattened to accommodate the tracks. They cut straight through hills in some areas, raised high on artificial banks in others.

The night grew darker and Elska’s energy waned like the moon. Still the tracks stretched on and on as far as her eyes could see, so she decided to rest and continue her journey tomorrow. She found shelter in a long, dark tunnel built around the tracks. It allowed them to pass under a great hill.

Her centaur eyes were as helpless as any humans’ in the dark. But her ears and nose were keen, so she used them to sense for danger in the tunnel. She smelled only iron and dust, heard no movement at all. Elska settled against the cold, stone wall and fell asleep.

Even her dreams were no sanctuary, for she found herself fighting an impossible battle against hordes of enemies. They were hideous roach-men with carapaces of steel. They blocked her path as she traversed the endless, alien wasteland, standing between her and the silhouettes of her clan standing atop the hill on the horizon.

Elska charged the roach-men with a furious war cry, raising her hammer high. In that moment she realized her hands were empty. She had no weapon to fight with, no armor to protect herself as the enemy swarmed her. They slammed their iron bodies against her, knocking her to the dusty ground. Elska thrashed below, but it was no use.

There were so many, and she had challenged them completely unprepared. Their alien roach-faces surrounded her, blocking out the land, the sky, and all else. Their chaos grew louder until it was deafening to her ears, so loud that it woke her from her fitful slumber.

Elska shot upright with a gasp. The ground was quaking beneath her, a bright light blinding her from the end of the tunnel. She felt a colossal energy approaching. She flattened herself against the wall just as a train blew passed, rattling down the tracks like an angry, armored war dragon.

It took several minutes for its entire length to leave the tunnel. When it did, daylight and morning birdsong flooded in after it. Elska squinted at the outside world. It was time to continue on her journey.

The valley was misty, obscuring Elska as she harvested corn from a field to feed herself. A dairy cow was conveniently standing near the fence further down. The centaur tore one of the fence boards away to climb through. She drank straight from the cow’s udder, filling her belly with nutritious, fatty milk. The cow grazed on, unfazed.

Perhaps the farmer’s cow was unbothered, but the same could not be said for their dog. A large, brown mutt with floppy ears raced towards Elska, barking and braying wildly. Elska raised her hammer as it approached. The peaceful morning air was pierced by one high-pitched yelp, and then Elska had herself a proper breakfast.

The dog’s meat was eaten raw, its skin and bones left behind for the crows gathering on the fence. Elska left the farm and returned to the road running parallel with the train tracks. A few early-morning travelers and carriages passed her by.

She received more than a few odd looks, but one hard glare shut down any prying questions about why a slave was wandering the roads alone, armed with a hammer and soaked in blood. Who wanted to deal with such a thing? She simply looked too dangerous too confront. It was no business of the Evangelite everyman.

But it _was_ the business of the Evangeline Guard, and before long she encountered one of their horseback patrolmen on the road. He was a red-fleshed roshava, all plated in steel armor with blue motifs. His horse, too, had blue embellishments on its reigns.

He raised his top right arm, pointing an accusatory finger in her direction. “You!” he barked, blocking her path. “What are you doing out here unsupervised? Let’s see some identification.”

“Get out of my way,” Elska rumbled. She shoved his horse aside, nearly knocking it to the ground before continuing on her path.

The patrolman barked, “Hey! Get back here, now!” and guided his mount to follow her, reaching for the lasso on his belt. Elska bucked her back hooves and clocked his horse right in the head as it approached. The beast let out a distressed whinny before collapsing on the road, legs going rigid.

The roshava went down with it. His legs became trapped under its weight as it convulsed helplessly. Elska turned around and was now stomping towards him. “Gods damn you!” he bellowed, and drew the sword off his hip. Elska pitched her hammer at him from a distance. The heavy weapon went spinning, hitting the patrolman with such force that it knocked the wind from his lungs and the sword from his grip.

He fell onto his back, dazed. The last thing he saw was a centaur’s hoof speeding towards his face. Elska looted his corpse of all its valuables, including dry food rations and a decent amount of gold. These things would help her on her journey, she reasoned, and her quest would only become easier with one more Evangelite dog in the ground.

As she tucked the loot away, the horse seemed to snap out of its stupor. It shook its head, rose back to its feet, and stumbled off into a nearby field where it grazed on tall grasses. Elska picked up the patrolman’s body and threw it next to the horse. It disappeared completely in the grass, leaving no evidence behind except for a puddle of blood and brain matter on the road. She kicked dirt over the mess and moved on.

By the time the morning fog dissipated, she found herself standing atop a hill, overlooking a vast pit below. The pit was some kind of work zone, littered with all kinds of contraptions she couldn’t identify. She saw piles of lumber, tubes of metal, smoking forges, and towering cranes moving these things to and fro.

Rusty, derelict train cars were scattered around as well. There was no doubt in her mind that this must have been the trainyard. Just as the elf said, there were centaurs wandering the place by the dozens. They were clearly slaves, toiling under the commoners shouting orders around them.

Each centaur wore irons on their wrists and leather harnesses around both their equine and humanoid bodies. They used these harnesses to pull heavy equipment. Elska watched, jaw agape, as ten panting centaurs dragged a skeletonized train car across the site. Nearby, several others were disassembling a different car. They used their natural centauran might to rip it apart piece by piece.

Elska scanned the area for familiar faces. Though it was impossible to make out their individual faces from such a distance, she knew one of her people by their silhouettes alone. They were larger, bulkier than other centaurs. The fur on their legs was much longer, flaring out and covering their hooves completely. They were all fair-complexioned and golden of hair. Since leaving Loreham, she had seen no others like them.

She saw centaurs of many shapes and colors. They had clearly been stolen from all over Gaia. One stood out among them—a head of golden hair reflecting the morning sun. Elska squinted, slowly moving down the hill to get a better look.

This individual looked like One of Stone and Bone, yet Elska hardly recognized her. The People of Stone and Bone were proud and strong, but she was gaunt and sickly, coated with grime and swarming with flies.

Her harness was attached to a heavy, iron pipe which she slowly dragged along. Her legs quivered with exertion, sweat pouring down her sunburned face. Like Elska, she had golden hair and fur.

Elska broke towards her in a sprint, shoving other slaves out of her path. She stopped before this strange centaur and seized her by the jaw, looking deeply into her eyes. Those eyes were blue as her own and lifeless as a corpse.

“Nadja?” Elska queried, nearly a whisper.

Nadja looked back at her, lifeless eyes blown wide and unblinking. “No…” she gasped in their native tongue, jerking out of Elska’s grip. “This sun! Damn this sun! I’ve gone mad!”

“You have not! Nadja, it’s me! It’s your cousin, Elska!” Elska reassured her, pulling her into a tight embrace. “I’ve come to rescue you from these barbarians! Where are the others?”

“No! Let me go, don’t do this!” argued Nadja. She twisted out of her grip once again, backing away from her as if she were diseased. She soon came to a stop as her harness would only let her travel so far. “Go away! Just go, please! I beg you!”

Bewildered, Elska cocked her head and exclaimed, “I will not leave without you! Tell me what has happened to the rest of our people!”

“They were sold elsewhere! I don’t know where! You need to leave now, before you get me in trouble!”

“Nadja, listen to yourself! You truly have gone mad!” Elska growled. She then raised her hammer and pounded it against the chains that connected Nadja’s hoof-shackles.

The links broke apart. Nadja was then free to run if she wished, but apparently she didn’t wish to. When Elska grabbed her wrist and tried to pull her along, she dug her hooves into the dirt and screamed, “Help me! Masters, help me! I’m being stolen!”

Elska froze in place, looking at her cousin like she’d grown a second head. Had she really just been betrayed by one of her own? This was not the same Nadja she picked berries and played tag with as a child. Kelvingyard had done something terrible to that person, had transformed her into this mad, traitorous, slave with no honor.

Elska didn’t know what else to do besides take a swing, hoping to knock the sense back into her. Her fist collided against Nadja’s face with a loud smack. The Nadja she knew would have absorbed the hit like a mountain, shook it off without a second thought. But this Nadja dropped like a stone on impact, trembling on the ground.

Staring down at her in disbelief, Elska shook her head and hissed, “What have they done to you…?”

“Help me!” Nadja cried on. “Masters, come quickly! She’s a thief! She broke my chains!”

Masculine shouts echoed from different directions. Elska saw armored overseers riding towards her on horseback from two directions. She readied her hammer and backed away from Nadja, brandishing it high.

Four overseers surrounded her with swords and lassos in hand. “This isn’t one of ours!” shouted one of them.

“Gods, it’s covered in blood!” said another. He turned to Elska and demanded, “Where’d you come from, huh? Let’s see some papers!”

“Back off, you worms! I am no property of your wretched kingdom, nor is she!” Elska roared, tipping her head towards her cousin. “Let us go and perhaps I will spare one of you!”

One overseer said to another, “I think we’ve got a feral runaway! Should we put it down?”

“No, don’t even scratch it!” the other replied quickly. “That’s a golden shaghoof! Do you have any idea how much it’s worth? Let’s tie it up and sell it to Kelvingyard!”

“Quick, quick, before the boss sees!” added another, and together they closed in on Elska.

The centaur swung at them with her hammer, but she barely made a full arc before she found herself on the ground. One of the overseers pitched a throwing bolas at her front hooves, another ramming her with his horse from behind, and down she tumbled with a furious yell.

Her four assailants jumped off their mounts and tackled her, struggling with their ropes and chains. Elska flailed as she tried to get back to her hooves. She kicked one overseer in the gut, sending him flying backwards. Her fist collided with another’s head, knocking him out cold. She managed to roll onto her front, but soon realized it was too late, for they managed to tie her front legs to her back ones.

She threw one of them to the side. He sprung back up as she swung at the other, a third closing in from behind her. Before long, they had looped a chain through her wrist shackles and bound her arms behind her back.

“We got it! Holy shit, we really got it!” one of them panted, raising his arms victoriously. A second later, Elska slammed her forehead against his skull and he fell to the dirt in a limp heap. She fought her binds, shouting and snarling, but she had already exhausted herself.

With two of their cohorts lying unconscious, one of the remaining overseers said to the other, “Get a muzzle on her and help me load her onto a cart. We’ll transport her after our shift and split the profit.”

“What about them?” queried the other, gesturing to their cohorts.

The first man shrugged and pointed to Nadja. “Tell the boss that one went feral and kicked ‘em. Look how sickly it is, it’s got a foot in the corpse pit anyway.”

*

The crooked overseers gagged Elska with cloth to silence her, slipped a burlap sack over her head to blind her, and loaded her into a horse-drawn cart that evening. The ride lasted many hours. During that time, the memory of Nadja’s betrayal played itself in her mind over and over. It haunted her like a terrible nightmare, except there was no waking from it.

After all this time, after all she went through, all the arduous jobs worked, all the money saved, all the nights worrying about her peoples’ fates…Elska had been pushed away like an unwanted pest. She could not make sense of it. Her entire world had been turned on its side and nothing seemed right anymore. Perhaps _she_ was the one who had gone mad.

At last, the cart came to a stop. Someone pulled the bag off of Elska’s face, revealing the gray, stone room around her. There was an iron door ahead and another behind. When she tried to move, she found that her hooves were shackled to the floor. She didn’t even know what to do with herself, still in shock from all that transpired. She awaited her fate silently as two more men entered the room, making five total.

Her captors were nowhere to be seen. Now she saw only four humans and one troll dressed in black armor. The armor was sickeningly familiar to her, distinctly that of Kelvingyard slavers. Their chatter was white noise to her for several minutes as they adjusted her chains, seeing that she was properly secured. Unnecessary, she thought. If she wasn’t, they would already be dead.

They began taking off her clothes, carelessly cutting them away and searching every pocket. They tossed her satchel to the floor, scattering her hard-earned supplies. “This one got any papers?” queried one voice.

“Not that I see,” replied another.

“What’s with all the blood?”

“Don’t know. Sellers said they found it like that. We’ll have to do a full decontamination before we pen it.”

“Hey, did you hear about that farmer who was murdered outside town the other day?”

“What?”

“Yes, the old man! His slaves said a feral shaghoof just broke down his door and bludgeoned him to death!”

“Gods, you don’t think…?”

“If this ain’t our killer, I’ll eat my damn boot!”

Elska’s skin suddenly flushed hot with shame, rage, and bloodlust all at once. If it weren’t for the cloth silencing her, she’d proudly admit to the murder before hocking a mouthful of mucus right in their eyes.

The slavers dunked sponges in buckets of soapy water, scrubbing the blood off her as they continued their conversation.

“We should probably turn it in to the authorities…”

“Are you crazy? This thing is worth ten grand, at least! When’s the last time a shaghoof passed through here? Three, four years now? The director would kill us if we coughed her up to the Guard.”

Elska’s heart sank. Then it was true; her people were sold off long ago. Just as the last of the bloody water swirled down the drain beneath her, another man stepped through one of the iron doors. It creaked and clunked heavily behind him. He was a fat human with an equally fat moustache, graying at its sides. Unlike the others, he wore no armor, but a long, white coat instead.

He circled around Elska with a pen in one hand and a clipboard in the other, scribbling down mysterious observations here and there. He let out a low whistle and said, “Huh, the boys in the office weren’t kidding. This one looks purebred alright. In damn fine shape too! In the prime of its life, no sagging udders, no missing limbs or anything! If it’s got at least half of its teeth left, we’re looking at _big_ profits.”

Elska glared down at the man, just daring him to stick a hand in her mouth.

One of the armored men turned to him and asked, “So, we’ve got a prime breeding candidate, right? We’ll pair it up with a good stud and this thing can churn out a fat chunk of gold every year!”

The fat man tapped the end of his pen against his chin. He hesitated, then replied with an air of uncertainty, “Eh…if we had a purebred male on hand, I’d say ‘yes’. But each pregnancy will depreciate its value, and I hesitate to waste time on cross-breeds. We have enough of those wasting away in the pens as it is.”

“What’s your recommendation then?”

“It depends,” said the man in the coat. “It’s a longshot, but I’ll see if I can track down a shaghoof stud. This one will depreciate each day it’s in this shit-hole, so put it in the market pen and don’t hold your breath. If I find a worthy stud before this one is sold, we’ll take it off the market and make it a brood mother. If it sells before then, just let it go. We’ll see fat profits either way.”

His words were like claws raking against Elska’s soul. Such flippancy in his tone, such heartlessness! It was enough to make her retch, had she anything in her stomachs. She was exhausted, dehydrated, and starving, for she hadn’t done a thing to care for herself since early that morning. It must have been late in the evening by now.

The fat man pulled a pair of gloves out of his pocket, slipping them on as he said, “I’ll go ahead and do a full exam, see what this one’s really worth. Is it docile?”

“No!” the slavers exclaimed all at once.

The man nodded. “I see. Give me a few minutes to prepare some tranquilizers then…”

*

The air was chilly. Many voices were quietly chattering all around, speaking in soft whispers. Elska felt cool, hard concrete against her face and opened her eyes to total darkness. After a moment, her eyes began to adjust. She was in some kind of concrete shelter, dark except for a faint light sneaking in through the one glassless window. The window led to none other than the slaveyard, the very same she visited with her crew the day prior.

This time, she was on the other side of the bars. She saw the silhouettes of other centaurs around her, at least a dozen of them crammed into the small space. The stench of sweat, blood, and anguish was thick in the air. She heard them snoring, whispering, and wandering around aimlessly, heard the metallic jingling of their chains and shackles.

Elska didn’t remember falling asleep. She felt woozy, as if she’d had too much to drink. She was still trying to gather her thoughts when a voice startled her. It queried, “How are you feeling?”

Elska whipped her torso around to search for it, then immediately regretted it when dizziness overcame her. She wobbled and collapsed back to the floor. A pair of large, calloused hands pressed against her shoulders, and the voice added, “Take it easy! You are safe. I know how I look, but I promise, I won’t hurt you.”

Blinking the blur from her eyes, Elska squinted up at the shape looming over her in the darkness. The light from the window just barely illuminated a face. It was wide and hard-featured, distinctly centauran. The stranger’s voice was notably deep, but had too much of a feminine edge for her to be male.

“I am Philippa Sand-Crosser of The First Claycoats, Daughter of Y’tan,” said the stranger.

Elska furrowed her brow. Her ailing brain was struggling to keep up. She scrubbed at her face, jaw hanging open in silent confusion.

The stranger smiled and told her, “Just call me Big Philly. Rumor has it you killed a lasher in cold blood. Is it true?”

Elska tried to sit up again, pushing her torso upright on quivering arms. “I…I killed two Evangelites. A farmer and a soldier,” she answered slowly. The memory was coming back to her. It felt like a dream.

Philippa’s smile grew wider, flashing white teeth. She replied, “So you did! You have my respect, sister. They usually put us down for that kind of thing, you know. You must be pretty damned valuable. What is your name?”

“I am Elska of Loreham,” Elska replied automatically, though her brain was still lagging behind.

Philippa nodded. “I’m not familiar with Loreham. But your accent sounds northern. You’re from the big mountains in Noalen, aren’t you?”

“Yes! My clan are the People of Stone and Bone!” Elska blurted. She paused, shoulders sinking when the rest of her memories finally caught up to her. “But I am the only one left now. Evangelites killed my people, and those they spared were stripped of their wills. They have betrayed me.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Philippa, tone quiet and solemn. She reached out to brush Elska’s loose hair from her face. Only then did Elska notice her original clothes were gone, replaced with itchy rags.

Philippa continued, “You are not alone. Your story is just like mine and so many others in this horrible place. The Evangelites are soulless, vile people, but they cannot get away with this forever. Their reign will come to an end one day, I promise you.”

Elska glanced up at her doubtfully. “You cannot promise that,” she sighed.

“But I can,” argued Philippa, taking her hand. She gave it a reassuring squeeze and told her, “Because I am the one who will see to it! The iron grows thin, Elska! The day is near!”

Was no one sane in this land? Elska dragged a palm down her face and let out a groan. “Listen to me,” Philippa began, squeezing her hand once more. “You probably think I’m crazy. But the truth is, I am the only one in this place who still has her head on straight. I’ve been here for a long time, Elska. Ten years, four months, and twelve days…”

Her eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, full of intensity as she whispered, “I know Kelvingyard inside and out. I know each crack in the wall by heart. You would do well to listen to me, because I will be the one to turn this whole place to dust. I will show you. Touch my shackles…”

She guided Elska’s hand to her wrist shackles. “Now touch yours…” urged Philippa. Elska felt her own wrists, mentally mapping them out in the dark. Her shackles were noticeably heavier and thicker than Philippa’s.

Philippa rubbed her wrists together, making a metallic, grinding sound as she explained, “These irons are the only thing protecting Kelvingyard from my power. Each night, I grind them down a little more. The day I break them is the day my magic breaks loose, and then Kelvingyard will be a memory. I can stop Evangeline’s heart. I will bring this whole kingdom to its knees, even if I must go down with it.”

Elska stared at her for a long moment. Her eyes had fully adjusted, and now she could make out more details in the pitiful light. Philippa’s hair was long and straight. Her build was surely obese, and her hulking frame dwarfed even Elska.

Philippa suddenly stood up, and Elska’s jaw gaped when she realized how big she really was. She was the most colossal centaur she’d ever seen, heavier than even the shaghoofs.

“So, you are a mage,” muttered Elska.

“I am far more powerful than any mage. I am a _sorceress_ ,” Philippa corrected her.

“And you truly believe you can destroy Kelvingyard?”

“There is no doubt in my mind.”

Elska paused in thought. Then she said, “I want to join your quest.”

Philippa’s smile returned. “I knew you would, killer.” She moved towards the open doorway, leaning on the frame as she stared into the yard. “Just rest for now. I will speak with you tomorrow at first light, when the poison clears from your blood.”

*


	2. Break Room

**[CHAPTER 2: BREAK ROOM]**

Morning arrived in the blink of an eye. Sunlight poured through the open door and window of the concrete shelter, waking Elska from a deep, drug-induced slumber. Philippa pulled her to her quaking hooves and offered a bucket of water.

“There are spigots at the other end of the yard,” Philippa explained. “The overseers turn the water on for one minute every hour, so get what you can. We get ten-minute showers four times a week. Our ‘bathroom’ is a big trough over that way.” She pointed vaguely to the east.

“Brood mothers eat as much as they want, but the rest of us eat twice a day if we’re lucky. The lashers don’t feed us enough to survive, so you’ll have to steal food from the feeble ones if you want to stay strong.” She nodded her head towards the corner of the shelter, where four elderly, emaciated centaurs lie. Every one of them looked just weeks, perhaps days from death.

“Steal? I would die before I stole food from an elder! I am not a thief!” exclaimed Elska. She was outraged by the very notion.

Philippa regarded her with a hard stare. “You don’t have a choice,” she said grimly. “What we were taught about honor on the outside means nothing within these walls.”

Elska looked the tauress up and down. Now in the light of the sun, she looked even more massive than before. Her skin was a rich chestnut color, and perhaps her fur had been a rich tone once too. But it had begun to gray with age, and so too had her black hair, streaked with strands of silver. The fur on her legs was white, as if she wore four knee-length socks.

“You are healthy and fat while the others waste away,” observed Elska, sipping water from the bucket. “It is because you’ve been stealing their food, is it not?”

Philippa chuckled, but there was no joy behind it. “Follow me,” she said, and led Elska out of the shelter.

They stepped out in to the open yard, which was not really so open. They were enclosed by tall, iron bars topped with razor-wire, separating them from other groups of slaves. Elska saw satyrs roaming the section to the left of theirs, and gorgons beyond that. Adjacent to them were two other pens, one for fauns and another for minotaurs.

The centaur’s pen was vast and dotted with ugly concrete shelters. Just as Philippa said, there were spigots jutting from the ground at one end of the yard and waste troughs lined up at the other. Surrounding all the pens were the tall, impenetrable stone walls of Kelvingyard, where officers armed with bows and blowguns patrolled back and forth.

Philippa led Elska up to a fenced-in area within the centaur’s pen. The fence was made of iron, much lower than the iron bars but still topped with razor wire to discourage escape. Several female centaurs roamed this area, along with a few nursing babes. These slaves were much fatter and clearly healthier than those in the market pen.

“Those are the brood mothers,” Philippa explained. “Kelvingyard doesn’t sell them as long as they keep churning out valuable offspring. I used to be one of them until just a few months ago. If you think I’m fat now, you should have seen me when I was in the brood pen! They fed me all that I wanted. I knew one day I would end up here, so I ate as much as I could bear.”

Elska turned back to Philippa. Only then did she notice the tattoo on her face: a single white line crossing from one cheek to the other, coming to a point on the bridge of her nose. In all centauran cultures Elska ever knew, facial tattoos were a symbol of marriage. Her gaze travelled down her equine body, and there she noticed the large, sagging udder hanging between her hind legs. Its size and wear indicated that Philippa had been mother to many babes in the past.

“You grew too old to bear children,” remarked Elska.

With a sullen nod, Philippa replied, “Yes. Now they want to sell me, but I will not go. I must stay and see that this place crumbles. Then everyone will be free. If I have to steal a few meals from my elders to make that happen, then so it must be. In all my time as a slave, I have learned that the honorable path is not a straight line. I hope you understand.”

Elska’s brow hardened in thought. “I am trying to,” she admitted. She looked back towards the brood mothers through the fence and said, “The officers want to put me in there, but they say they cannot find a male of my kind. Perhaps if they hadn’t killed or sold them all, the _cretins_ …”

She shook her head. “I trust you, Big Philly. You are the only slave I have spoken to since I’ve arrived in this wretched kingdom who has regarded me as an ally, rather than an enemy. I pray that you will not betray me.”

“I would never dream of it,” Philippa told her, looking her in the eyes. “This place breaks people down like bones beneath a hammer. They lose their wills and all sense of self-respect. But you are made of something stronger. You are like me—your spirit is unbreakable. They cannot tame gaians like us, so they take us to the chopping block and kill us.”

“They have not killed you,” mentioned Elska.

“No,” replied Philippa, tapping her own head with a cheeky smile, “because not only am I strong and beautiful, I am _clever_ too. That’s why you must do as I say if you want to thrive in here. I will teach you all need to know about this place, so long as you will listen. And should I grow old and die before my quest is finished, it will be you who takes my mantle.”

Elska nodded dutifully. “I will not let you down. If I cannot rescue my people, then I shall avenge them!”

Shortly after sunrise, bells rang out across the compound. Officers pushed wheelbarrows full of food down each wing to feed the slaves. Elska received a handful of rice gruel wrapped in a leaf, a piece of weevil-infested hardtack, and an entire roasted rat on a kebab. She looked at the so-called “food” in disbelief. Philippa wasn’t kidding, she would starve to death if she didn’t do something dishonorable.

“The officers know it’s not enough. They feed us like this on purpose,” Philippa told her. “It keeps costs low while weeding out the weak slaves, ensuring that only the strongest survive to be sold.”

Elska could barely watch, face scrunched in disgust as Philippa approached a smaller centaur and ripped the food from her hands. Her victim was young but sickly, already thin from illness. Or perhaps ill with thinness. She didn’t attempt to fight back, hadn’t the strength in her bones. She simply collapsed on the ground and wept as Philippa passed the extra piece of hardtack to Elska.

Elska looked down at the ill-gotten biscuit. Though it was not crawling with weevils like her own, she could hardly bring herself to eat it. Extreme hunger and determination gnawed painfully at her two bellies, and she found herself swallowing it anyway. It was the foulest thing she’d ever tasted.

After breakfast, Philippa explained, “Market hours will begin soon. Buyers come here from all over the world, looking for slaves. If you are bought, you may be taken to a faraway land, and there is no telling what to expect from there.”

“So if I do not wish to be sold, I must behave like a beast!” deduced Elska.

Philippa raised her hands and told her, “Wrong! Do _not_ act crazy or you’ll be sent to the break room!”

Elska quirked her yellow eyebrows. “I do not understand why that should frighten me. There is a break room at the mercenary compound. It is a pleasant place.”

Philippa had to hold back her laughter. She gave Elska’s intelligence the benefit of the doubt, for her accent was strong and her _Universa_ was imperfect. “This is different,” she said. “The break room is not a place to rest. It’s a dungeon where they torture you until your spirit breaks. But there is a trick I learned to avoid buyers and the break room at the same time…”

She gestured to her face, rounding her brown eyes and furrowing her brow above. “When buyers inspect slaves, they look us in the eyes. Those with broken spirits will always look down. No one wants a spirited centaur, so you must stare right back into their eyes! Glare at them as if to say ‘I will trample you to death!’ It makes you undesirable, and it does not draw the officers’ attention.”

Planting her hands on her hips, Philippa said, “Go on. Show me your most menacing glare.”

Taking a deep breath, Elska closed her eyes and thought of all the injustices that plagued her for the last three years. When she opened them, her scowl cast bold shadows across her face, icy blue eyes piercing below her wrinkled brow.

Philippa clapped and told her, “Yes, that’s perfect! When the buyers arrive, look at them just like that!”

Not an hour later, officers started moving into the gaian wing to retrieve slaves from their pens. Sometimes buyers were very particular about what they wanted, so the officers rounded up only small groups. Other times, the buyers weren’t so picky and the pens were temporarily emptied.

It wasn’t long before a group of officers stepped into the centaurs’ market pen and called, “Attention! All female centaurs, report to the gate! Hurry up, let’s go!”

The slaves obeyed, all except those too sickly to move. They remained dying in their filthy corners as Elska, Philippa, and the others approached the iron gate. The officers worked quickly and efficiently to loop long chains through their shackles, stringing them all together. If one tried to escape on the way to the sales field, she wouldn’t get far.

Philippa made a point to stand next to Elska as they were chained together. The chain gang was then led out of the pen and down the outdoor corridor to the sales field. Elska recalled being here with her crew before, and to her surprise, she saw them here again.

Evan, Lukas, and Glenvar were standing ahead with Mr. Zaleesha, the roshavan salesman. Their faces lit up when they saw her. Evan pointed towards Elska and said something to Mr. Zaleesha that she was too far away to hear.

The chain gang lined up in several neat rows, awaiting their next orders. Evan handed Mr. Zaleesha a slip of paper and spoke to him again, glancing back at Elska. Had they come to rescue her? Elska had to somehow make them go away, or they would ruin everything!

Taking the sheet of paper to an officer, Mr. Zaleesha said quietly, “Sir, those gentlemen were just here the other day with that slave.” He pointed to Elska. Her keen ears could just barely hear him over the wind. “Apparently it got away from them and they would like to reclaim it. They have papers and everything.”

“The shaghoof?” blurted the officer, brows arching high behind his helmet. He almost laughed, “That’s a fat lot of gold down the drain! The director’s going to be sour if we let it go for a measly reclamation fee.”

“Yes, I know!” Mr. Zaleesha hissed. “What should I tell them?”

“Uh…” Rubbing his moustache in thought, the officer decided, “I don’t know, see if they’re willing to trade her for something else?”

With a short nod, Mr. Zaleesha rushed back to the mercenaries wearing a big, plastic smile. He placed one of his hands on Evan’s back as he led them down the line of slaves, saying, “Sorry about the delay, gentlemen! Now, I understand you’d like to reclaim Gildy there, but that officer said he’s willing to cut you a very special, once-in-a-lifetime deal!”

He swept one of his lower arms towards the line and said enthusiastically, “You may trade in that old nag for any other slave in our compound, all for the cost of the reclamation fee! Yes, you heard right! You can walk out of here with _any_ other slave you like for only a measly one hundred GP! You’d have to be crazy not to take advantage of such a deal! What do you say?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Evan declined. “No, sir. We’d just like to reclaim Gildy and be on our way.”

The roshava’s expression faltered ever so slightly. With one of his hands, he swiped a rag out of his pocket and dabbed at his glistening brow. He clamped his remaining three hands on the mercenaries’ shoulders and guided them towards Philippa.

“Listen, boys,” he began, dropping his voice almost to a whisper. “I’ve been in the gaian-dealing business for over a decade. I’m telling you, you’ll be kicking yourself for years to come if you pass up a deal like this.”

He raised his voice again, patting Philippa’s equine shoulder. “Personally, if I were lucky enough to be in your shoes, I’d take off with this fine specimen here! It’s just _slightly_ passed its prime, but it’s in excellent health and the muscles on it put your Gildy to shame twice over! You’re getting twice the power for a tiny fraction of the cost! Big Philly here is what we in the business call a ‘premium slave’. Normally we charge upwards of ten grand for these beasts. So if I were you, I’d take it home today and sell it to a private buyer!” With a wink, he added, “Just a little tip from an expert.”

Scratching at his beard, Glenvar nudged Evan and muttered, “Might not be a bad deal, Chief. Maybe we can take home a centaur with a _brain_ who doesn’t decide to run off into the godsforsaken—”

Evan silenced his crewman with a hard nudge back. He cleared his throat, addressing Mr. Zaleesha when he said, “We appreciate the offer, but Gildy is very special to us. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a short talk with her before we go.”

“Yes. Of course.” Mr. Zaleesha bowed slightly, fighting to keep the smile on his face as he stepped away. Once he was out of earshot, Evan gently grabbed a fistful of Elska’s hair and tugged her down to his level.

“Do you see what happens when you don’t listen to me?” he hissed. “ _This_ is exactly why I told you to—”

“Spare me your drivel, Captain! I will not be going with you!” Elska hissed back. She tipped her head towards Philippa and continued, “You must take her instead. Remove her shackles and then bring her back. She can rescue not only me, but everyone else in this cesspit!”

Evan recoiled in befuddlement. “What are you talking about?”

“Big Philly is a sorceress!” Elska told him, her tone stressed with urgency. “She plans to destroy Kelvingyard, and I have joined her cause!”

All three mercenaries let out groans, scratching their necks and rubbing at their tired faces. “You’re letting failure get to your head,” Evan sighed, grasping the chain between her wrists. “I’m sorry the job was a wash, but we have no choice but to drop it and go home. We did our best. Your ancestors would be proud of your efforts.”

“Do not speak as if you knew my ancestors!” Elska barked, jerking her chain from his grip. “Either join our cause or return home without me! I will not go with you!”

“Have ya lost yer mind, _stira_?” growled Glenvar.

“This is ridiculous! Stop this nonsense and get your ass back to the Hollow!” added Lukas. He pulled at her chain, but she pushed her hands forward and shoved him back.

The other slaves stood around her, anxious and rigid as two officers rushed in to control the situation. “Is this animal giving you trouble, gentlemen?” one of them asked.

Evan said, “No, no, everything’s fine! She’s just being a little stubborn, that’s all. Come on, Gildy. Time to go home.” He patted her arm, but she reared up and slammed against him, knocking him to the ground.

“Leave me be! I won’t go!” she bellowed. The officers broke out into shouts, three more rushing over from their posts to control her. They grabbed at her arms and she swung her fists, kicked her legs, and rammed them with her equine hips. Evan scrambled back to his feet, begging them not to hurt her.

The struggle came to an end when Philippa suddenly looped her arms around Elska’s head. She squeezed the golden-haired centaur’s shoulders, trapping her in a tight hold. She whispered lowly in her ear, “ _That’s enough_.”

Only then did Elska calm down, left panting with five officers and a fellow slave holding her in place. In the distance, Mr. Zaleesha’s eyes sparkled with excitement. He forced concern into his voice as he rushed back to the mercenaries and asked, “Oh my, what seems to be the problem here?”

“It’s nothing, really! This is normal, she’s always like this!” Evan assured him. “If you can get some guys to drag her outside, we’ll take it from there.”

Mr. Zaleesha drooped his black brows, his tone overly-apologetic when he replied, “Ah, I’m so sorry, gentlemen, but it seems this one is too feral to sell! We try to carefully evaluate all our stock beforehand, but mistakes do happen sometimes. I’m sure you understand.”

“No, we don’t!” snapped Lukas. “What do you mean ‘too feral to sell? Can we have her back or not?”

Mr. Zaleesha clasped all of his hands together, offering a humble bow. “I’m afraid it’s against Evangeline law for us to knowingly sell a slave with feral tendencies. My apologies, boys, but my hands are tied! This one will have to go through some reconditioning before it’s market-ready.”

“Mr. Zaleesha, please,” pleaded Evan. “That slave is irreplaceable to us! There must be some way for us to get her back.”

The roshava’s shoulders jumped. He replied flippantly, “Well, you can always return another day. Perhaps she’ll be ready then. But I warn you, Kelvingyard is not obligated to hold slaves for you, whether you have their original papers or not. If someone should purchase this one before you arrive, they’re within their legal rights to do so.”

Evan pinched the bridge of his nose, massaging his aching eyes. “Shit…” he cursed under his breath. Then he looked up at Elska and said sternly, “El—er, Gildy, I want you to think _very_ hard about your behavior today! We’ll come back tomorrow, and when we do, you better have a different attitude and hope someone else doesn’t snatch you up before us!”

He began walking away, his cohorts reluctantly in tow. The captain briefly glanced back at her and added, “Think hard, Gildy! No matter what, you are priceless to us! Remember that!”

The mercenaries disappeared through the iron door as Elska and the other centaurs were led back to their pen. Before she could step through the gate, Elska was detached from the chain gang and guided away. Philippa watched through the bars as she was led through a corridor in the stone wall.

Painted on the stone in bold, black lettering were two words: “BREAK ROOM”.

*

Elska stood face-to-face with a giant contraption she did not understand. It appeared to be some kind of metal wheel suspended on a post. The wheel was lined with twenty or so large handles, most which were occupied by other gaian slaves. Their shackles were chained to the handles, forcing them to continuously push them and turn the heavy wheel.

The contraption creaked and groaned with each slow revolution. Hundreds of thick cables were connected to the post above, buzzing as if they were full of bees. All of this was contained in the vast break room, along with several overseers roaming the area with odd devices in their hands, some kind of weapon much like a cattle prod.

When the overseers spotted a lagging slave, they prodded them with the devices. The metal prongs crackled with a blue spark on contact. Elska was led over to a free handle, her shackles swiftly chained to its ringlets. Now she had no choice but to keep moving, or else be dragged along by the turning wheel.

There was a minotaur behind her and a satyr ahead of her, both dripping with sweat, legs quaking with exertion as they pushed the wheel with all their might. Elska refused to sweat for these monsters. She relaxed her arms against the handle and walked along, keeping pace with the wheel.

It wasn’t long before the overseers noticed. “You! Blondie!” one of them barked, pointing at her from an elevated platform. “Start putting your back into it or you’re getting five hundred volts in the ass!”

“I know not what this is! Tell me the purpose of this horrible contraption!” the centaur demanded.

The overseer jumped off the platform and stormed towards her. She cried out as he prodded her hip with the sharp ends of his prodding device. It burned her like a small bolt of lightning, forcing her muscles to spasm painfully.

“Don’t talk back to me again! Shut up and turn that wheel!” the overseer snarled. Elska let out a furious roar, fighting against her binds. She threw all of her body weight back, slowing the wheel almost to a stop for just a brief moment. The other slaves resisted her pull, pushing forward and dragging her along. Her hooves slid noisily against the concrete floor.

The overseer prodded her again. Elska kicked at him, but the device’s length allowed him to stand out of her range. She thrashed and screamed, overcome by rage while her oppressors only laughed around her.

A second overseer prodded her side three times in succession. She jerked with each attack, desperately pulling against her binds, but they held fast. Her assailant walked alongside her and said, “You still got four more hours on wheel duty, princess! You sure you want to wear yourself out with all this nonsense? I can stand here and fry you all day, makes no difference to me!”

“You will swallow my fist, you worm!” Elska screamed back. The overseers’ laughter swelled throughout the room.

One of them replied, “You’ll swallow my prod if you don’t shut up! And I ain’t talking about this thing!” He raised his electric cattle prod in the air. The room swelled with laughter once again.

Anger flushed Elska’s skin red. Her ferocious screams echoed off the stone walls as she fought the immense weight of the wheel. Raising her back legs, she delivered a solid kick to the handle behind her. The metal quivered, the reverberation travelling up the arms of the minotaur slave. He instantly let go, put off by the odd feeling, and without his efforts the wheel slowed down.

Elska continued to scream out her anger as she tugged at the iron links fastening her shackles to the wheel. The overseers’ laughter died down, eyes rounding in shock at the sight before them. The wheel, for the first time ever, was turning the opposite direction. Elska’s muscles bulged, hooves digging against the concrete, as she overpowered the other slaves. They had stopped pushing so hard, transfixed by her efforts.

“Hey, hey, knock it off! It ain’t meant to go that way!” one of the overseers barked. He turned to the others and ordered, “Get over there and stop that animal before it breaks the generator!”

They obeyed, and in an instant Elska was consumed by a storm of flashing, popping jolts of electricity. Her screams of fury turned to those of pain. White stars danced before her eyes, legs going limp. She collapsed and the wheel stopped completely. The buzzing in the cables quieted to silence, slaves pausing as they awaited orders.

Elska dangled from the handle by her wrists. She breathed through gnashed teeth, her every muscle burning even after the overseers backed away. She did not want to give them the satisfaction of obedience. She would rather die than take orders from cretins like these.

In her daze, she swore she heard Philippa’s voice whisper in her ear: “ _Do not act crazy…The honorable path is not a straight line…”_

Elska let out a long, hoarse groan. Philippa was wise. If they were to bring Kelvingyard down, perhaps she had to rethink her ideas about honor, if only temporarily. One hoof at a time, Elska lifted herself upright. Sweat and mucus leaked down her face, hair in disarray.

One of the overseers said to her, “Are you going to cooperate now? Or do we have to make a steak out of you?” The others shared a round of chuckles.

Refusing to look at them, Elska silently grasped the wheel’s handle and began to push forward. The other slaves snapped to attention and did the same. Even with all their efforts combined, the contraption was terribly heavy and cumbersome. The cables buzzed, once again flowing with electricity.

Every so often, an overseer would offer water to the slaves, spraying it into their mouths with a hose. Elska considered spitting it back at them. Instead, she swallowed it down with her pride. This was only a means to an end, she reasoned. She knew that one day soon, she and all the slaves around her would have their justice.

*

By the time Elska emerged from the break room, she could hardly stand. She collapsed several times, but when overseers brought in a cart to transport her back into the market pen, she refused it and struggled there on her own four feet. Her legs quaked like rubber with every step. Her knees buckled and she simply lifted herself back up each time until finally, she passed through the gate.

Philippa had waited for her by the gate the entire time. She welcomed Elska with open arms, and Elska took full advantage of them when she leaned against her. Philippa lowered them both to the ground and said, “Only four hours at the wheel! The lashers must be fond of you. Most folks get six, at least.”

Elska barely had the energy to respond. Her vision blurred with sheer exhaustion. She took pride in her strength, refusing to let the overseers break her. Meanwhile, several other slaves had collapsed at the wheel before her time was up. One faun even had a heart attack. The overseers simply detached him from the wheel and carelessly tossed his convulsing body into a cart, where he died not long after.

Elska had survived. No matter what, she would not let Kelvingyard be the death of her. _She_ would be the death of Kelvingyard.

“Here, killer. I saved you a biscuit,” said Philippa, plucking a piece of hardtack from somewhere in her shirt. Elska took it without question and bit into it lethargically.

“Thank you,” she managed. Philippa smiled back. Without a word, she combed her fingers through Elska’s long, yellow hair and began to braid it. She hummed a soft tune as she worked, nearly lulling Elska to sleep.

Elska was drifting off until she heard shouting and whooping around her. Her eyes snapped open and fixated on a group of officers crowding the brood pen. Two of them led one of the brood mothers out into the corridor, while two other officers pulled a large male centaur out of the market pen. He had tawny fur and a head of curly, crimson hair. So too did the brood mother, who was now having her back legs shackled closely together.

The surrounding officers made an obnoxious ruckus, hollering foul commentary they surely found amusing. Elska watched, disbelieving her eyes. Several officers steadied the brood mother while the heavy market slave jumped on her back.

Both centaurs’ faces were devoid of emotion. There was no grace, no intimacy as male mounted female under the supervision of the howling, laughing slavers. Even some of the slaves were making lewd commentary and whooping from their pens.

It was too much to bear. Elska quickly looked away, burying her face in her palms. She felt her hands trembling ever so slightly, heart hammering in her chest. The shame of it all! The unnecessary cruelty! It was worse than she even imagined.

Philippa pulled Elska into her arms. “Don’t mind all that nonsense,” she said softly. “It’ll be over with in just a minute.”

Elska couldn’t steady the tremble in her voice when she gasped, “That’s what they…? T-that will be me if…” She couldn’t finish the thought aloud.

Philippa stroked the top of her head and told her, “It’s not so bad. Just whatever you do, never name the products. You will regret it.”

Elska shot her a strange look. “Products?” she queried.

“Yes. The, uh…the offspring,” Philippa answered, clearing her throat shortly after. She suddenly seemed uncomfortable, refusing to meet Elska’s gaze.

“The babies,” Elska clarified. “None of them have names?”

Philippa shook her head. “Not mine. Last one I had, the lashers called him ‘Centaur Male 0971’. Creative bunch, aren’t they?” She rolled her eyes. “I nursed him for a six months and then he was gone.”

“He died?”

“No. Sold.” Philippa’s tone was light and casual, yet her face was burdened with a heavy weight. “I used to be the prize pig around here. Kelvingyard has probably made enough gold off my products to buy a king’s ransom!”

She almost laughed. It was a sardonic kind of sound, just a gust from her nostrils. “Now I’ve got a few gray hairs, and suddenly they’re trying to pawn me off for nothing more than a reclamation fee? Pff, I guess I’m rotten potatoes!”

Elska said, “You are worth more than your weight in gold, Big Philly. You are righteous, and you are strong and wise and unbreakable!” Her eyes betrayed her, glancing back at the brood mother when the market slave let out a loud groan. She wished she hadn’t. The scene sent a visible shudder from her head to her hooves.

“I—I do not want that,” she admitted. “I cannot let that happen to me. I will not! Tell me what I must do to stop it!”

Philippa pressed her yellow head close to her chest. Elska heard her heartbeat, like a thunderstorm inside her. “Please, don’t look at that,” sighed Philippa. “There is nothing natural about it.”

She paused, scrutinizing Elska’s face for a moment. “No tattoos on you,” she observed. “You’ve never been married, have you?”

“I never had the chance. Not before the Evangelites took everything from me,” Elska told her. A bitter edge crept into her voice. She hesitated before adding, “But…I never wanted to marry anyway. I still do not want to be a mother. And I certainly never want…” She rolled a shoulder towards the obscene ritual. “… _that_.”

“Oh, Elska,” began Philippa, stroking her yellow head. “That isn’t the way love is supposed to feel, and it is not the way motherhood is supposed to happen. I married well before your age, and I loved that fellow with all my heart. He gave me two strong, beautiful daughters, and I did not think I could love someone as much as I loved them. They made me so happy.”

A wistful smile crossed her plump face. It disappeared as suddenly as it came, and then Philippa’s eyes watered with grief.

“I wish I could have met your daughters,” said Elska.

“So do I. They would have adored you.”

“What were their names?”

Philippa froze, caught off-guard by the question. A silence passed between them. Then, she rose to her hooves and said flatly, “That’s all gone with the breeze, honey. It doesn’t matter now. Stay here and rest, I’ll go get us some water.”

With that, she slowly lumbered off towards the concrete shelter, where several buckets of water were stored. Elska cautiously looked back towards the site of the forced breeding. The brood mother and the market slave were being led their separate ways.

The gate to the market pen opened with a metallic squeal. Elska’s eyes followed the red-headed market slave as he trudged passed her, looking just as dead inside as she had when she left the break room.

She knew she could avoid such a fate by allowing herself to be bought. If she continued to scare buyers, Kelvingyard would surely pair her up with a male slave at some point, and then she would suffer as Philippa had. But if she didn’t stay and help Philippa destroy this place, her ancestors would frown upon her from the stars as a coward.

Tomorrow her crew would return for her, and she had to make a decision: look down or look mean.

*

Elska woke in the middle of the night to a harsh, scratching sound. She squinted in the darkness of the concrete shelter and saw Philippa nearby, scrubbing her shackles together relentlessly. She was grinding them down further, bringing the slaves ever closer to freedom. The sound continued all through the night, eventually lulling her back to sleep.

Elska woke a second time just as sunlight flooded the shelter. Like an automaton, she turned off her brain and willed her body to march towards the gate for food rations. Then she picked her target, an elderly tauress, and snatched the food right from her hands.

The stranger didn’t bother fighting back. Her ribs were jutting out, flies gathering on her hide as if she were already dead. Like so many others in Kelvingyard, she had given up on life.

The stolen food still tasted rancid to Elska, threatening to crawl back up her throat to punish her. She forced it down and stayed by Philippa’s side until the market hour arrived.

Once again, every female centaur was lined up and chained together, then led to the sales field. Elska knew the Freelance Good Guys had come for her before she even saw them. She stood beside Philippa in the chain gang, watching as Mr. Zaleesha approached the mercenaries and greeted, “Good morning, gentlemen! Back again to take up that offer, are you?”

“No,” Evan told him, “we’re just here for Gildy. Hopefully she’s thought about what she’s done and she’s ready to come home. May I speak with her for a moment?”

“Of course, sir,” said Mr. Zaleesha, and he stepped away as the mercenaries approached their crewwoman.

The roshava seemed less anxious today, more confident, as if he knew something the mercenaries didn’t. Something about Elska, for he surely heard of her spirited behavior in the break room. He didn’t expect her to go peacefully, and he was right.

“You are wasting your time,” Elska whispered to Evan. “I still will not go with you! If you want me to come home, you will have to take her instead.” She tipped her head towards Philippa, listening carefully beside her.

“Elska, this plan of yours, it’s—it’s mad!” Evan hissed. “It isn’t going to work! Please, I beg you, just come with us!”

“I have told you my conditions. Now accept them or leave.”

“If you don’t come with us now, you may never get another chance! You’ll be stuck in Evangeline Kingdom forever, don’t you understand?”

“You are wrong!” Elska growled. “I will only stay here until Big Philly escapes her shackles, and then perhaps I will return to you after Kelvingyard crumbles to dust.”

“You’ll be killed, ya idiot!” Glenvar told her.

Elska snapped back, “So be it! If I must sacrifice myself to avenge my people and spare future generations, then I could not die a more honorable death!”

Evan’s face flushed pink with anger and fear. He gripped the chain running through her shackles, giving it a hard, threatening tug. He growled lowly through this teeth, “Come. Home. _Now_.”

Elska regarded him with a stubborn glare, then raised her knee and kicked him with her front hoof. He stumbled backwards before falling to the ground. Several officers cried out and swarmed towards Elska, but she didn’t move a muscle after that, staring hard at her cohorts.

“Well then,” began Mr. Zaleesha, helping Evan back to his feet, “it seems your Gildy is quite the spirited one, hm? I’m very sorry, but since it physically attacked you, it’ll have to go back for more conditioning.”

“No, no, that isn’t necessary! She didn’t hurt me at all! Look, I’m fine!” Evan assured him, brushing the dirty hoofprint off his belly.

With a strained, apologetic smile, Mr. Zaleesha told him, “Sorry, boys, but it’s not up to me. Kelvingyard cares very much about the safety of all our customers, and it would simply be irresponsible if we released an untamed gaian out into our great kingdom. We would feel just terrible if someone was hurt—or gods forbid, _killed_ by one of our slaves!”

Evan scrubbed at his eyes, letting out a growl of frustration. Meanwhile, Lukas marched up to Mr. Zaleesha and seized him by the collar of his blue suit. “Listen here, you silver-tongued prick,” Lukas rumbled, standing on the tips of his toes to level their faces. “I don’t care what strings you have to pull or who you have to suck off, but you _will_ let us walk out of here with that centaur! Are we clear?”

“Lukas!” Evan scolded his crewmen, pulling him off Mr. Zaleesha. He promptly apologized on his behalf, laughing nervously, “I’m very sorry about my friend here! We’ve been on the road for days, and we’re all just a _little_ on edge.”

Taking a decidedly long step back from the mercenaries, Mr. Zaleesha straightened his collar and replied, “It’s alright, sir. I’m a salesman, I’m used to this kind of thing.”

Elska was already being separated from the chain gang and led away back towards the gaian wing. Helplessly her crew watched her go, her head held high with confidence over her poor decision.

“She is the most stubborn creature I’ve ever met in my life,” said Evan.

“Takes one to know one,” muttered Lukas.

Glenvar leaned in and said quietly, “Forget it, Chief. Ya can lead a horse to water, but ya can’t make ‘em drink. Folks like her can’t be told nothin’!”

Standing some distance away, Mr. Zaleesha called to them, “Our offer still stands, gentlemen! You may take home any one of these other beasts for nothing more than a reclamation fee. We can only honor this deal once, so choose wisely!”

Evan opened his mouth to decline, more than ready to give up and go home. It wouldn’t be the first time a crewman abandoned ship for some foolish cause. Then he reconsidered, looking back to Philippa.

“You know what? Sure,” he said, “Tell me about that big one over there. The one you were trying to sell us yesterday.”

“Ah, yes, we call that one ‘Big Philly’! A very fine purchase you won’t regret!” Mr. Zaleesha told him. “Big Philly is a very rare specimen, you see. It’s a purebred claycoat, a breed which is not typically that large. We believe it has some form of centaur gigantism—a completely _harmless_ genetic condition, I assure you! It’s been held as a brood mother until just recently, so it’s in excellent health. Its production years are slightly passed, but for such a low price, you’re getting a stupendous deal. It’s still strong as an ox! Stronger, even, and certainly smarter! This beast has a good two decades of hard labor left in it, maybe even more with proper maintenance.”

Evan nodded thoughtfully, as if considering his words. In reality, he’d already made his decision. “I’d like to speak with her myself first, if you don’t mind.”

“Be my guest,” said Mr. Zaleesha, and he stepped away once again.

The mercenaries approached Philippa. Evan curled his finger at her, beckoning her to lower her head. She did so, then he leaned in close and whispered, “If we get those shackles off you, can you help us rescue our friend?”

“I have nothing to lose,” Philippa whispered back. “I can and I _will_. You have my promise.” She uncurled one of her fists, offering a hand for a shake. Evan hesitated, looking back at his crewmen. With no other options, they simply shrugged back and he shook her hand.

“We’ll work out the details later. Let’s get you out of here first,” said Evan, then he turned back to Mr. Zaleesha and called, “I think this one will do just fine! You have yourself a deal, sir!”

*

While Elska suffered at the wheel, Philippa was inspected and processed. By that afternoon, her life was legally transferred from Kelvingyard to Evan’s ownership. For the first time in a decade, her hooves touched the dirt path leading out of Kelvingyard.

Philippa recoiled in surprise, freezing in place on the pathway. The mercenaries looked back at her in concern, wondering if she was planning to run away. “Something wrong?” queried Lukas.

Looking all around, Philippa laughed a little and said, “Yes, it’s…it’s just been so long since I’ve seen plants! Look at all these trees! Oh, and the flowers! They’re so beautiful!” She trotted towards a planter outside of a shop, stooping low to smell the flowers inside.

The mercenaries exchanged expressions of shock and pity. Evan cleared his throat, gently taking her by the hand. “Come on,” he said. “There is plenty of wilderness to see back at camp.”

Philippa followed them out of Kelvingyard Town and into the forest. She fawned over grass and bushes and birds along the way—things the mercenaries realized they had been taking for granted their entire lives.

They arrived back at their humble campsite, marked by nothing more than a fire pit and a tent of cattle hides. They swept the area for unwanted ears, then finally they could sit around the dead fire to talk business.

“This is a stupid plan!” Lukas blurted. “I can’t _believe_ you took that deal, Evan! Do you really expect this fat, old woman to bust Elska out of the biggest slave pen on Gaia? Do you have brain-worms?” He reached out and delivered a quick slap to the back of the captain’s head.

Before Evan could snap back at him, Philippa said, “Magic doesn’t care how fat and old I am.” She raised her fists. “Get these irons off of me and I’ll show you what this fat, old woman can really do!”

The mercenaries fell silent, looking at one another with uncertainty.

“Should we?” queried Glenvar.

Evan sighed, “We don’t have much of a choice now, do we?”

“If she kills us, I’ll have a big I-Told-You-So waiting for both of you in the afterlife,” said Lukas. With that, he reached into his satchel and pulled out a long, needle-like device with a curve at the end.

Lukas kneeled beside Philippa and carefully inserted the device into the keyhole of one of her shackles. He leaned his ear in close, listening for a specific sound as he jiggled the needle’s point. After just a few minutes, the shackle loosened and fell to the ground. The skin beneath it was pale and raw.

Lukas did the same to the other, then Philippa looked down at her bare wrists as if she were seeing them for the first time. Her eyes rounded like coins, and her mouth curved into a wide, toothy smile. She pulled Lukas into a crushing hug. He squirmed and grunted as she let out a booming laugh.

“So, you say you’re some kind of sorceress,” said Evan. His tone was still flattened with doubt.

“Oh, yes. I’ve studied terramancy since I was a little filly,” the centaur specified, rising to her hooves.

“Terror-what? What’s that?” asked Glenvar.

Philippa smiled. “It’s this,” she said, and then she rose her front hoof high and stomped it down. The ground rumbled on impact. The dirt began falling away before her, creating a fissure that spread all the way across the campsite. Glenvar and Lukas jumped out of its path, staring in amazement at the split between them. It was as deep as Glenvar was tall, and about as wide as his head.

“That’s only a small taste of what I’m capable of,” Philippa explained. “I don’t want to demonstrate anything more destructive until we return to Kelvingyard.”

Evan agreed quickly, “Uh, yes. Please, don’t draw any unnecessary attention.”

“Do you doubt me now?” she asked.

Evan looked back at his crewmen. They shrugged and shook their heads respectively, so he answered, “Not at all. I believe your goal is well within your grasp. However, there is still an important matter we must discuss, and that’s how we’re going to save Elska without becoming wanted men.”

“Agreed,” added Lukas, “We can’t afford to be on a Great Kingdom’s shit-list. Been there, done that. Not something I’m willing to experience again.”

Philippa told them with confidence, “That won’t be an issue. Just follow my plan, and you and Elska will leave Kelvingyard with no bounty. I accept every bit of responsibility for what we are about to do.”

Glenvar hesitated, then said, “Er, ya know ya won’t survive this, right? Stompin’ into that place, magic blazin’…A few slaves might get out, but those blue boys’ll take ya down like a foamin’ mongrel.”

Philippa nodded sagely. “That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. I would die a thousand times over, so long as Kelvingyard died with me.” The lines in her face deepened slightly, perhaps with pain. “My home is gone. My husband, my children, my people—all that I knew is long gone. You are speaking to a woman who died years ago. Death means nothing to me anymore.”

*

After four hours in the break room, Elska was led back to the market pen. She collapsed just inside the gate, humanoid and equine chests both heaving with exhaustion. Her arms were numb, all four legs like rubber.

Once she caught her breath, she pushed herself upright and looked around the pen. Strangers wandered all around, but she did not see Philippa anywhere. “Big Philly?” she called. No one answered. Louder, she bellowed, “Big Philly! Where are you?”

“She’s been sold,” replied a creaky voice. Elska twisted around. A frail, trembling old tauress shambled past her and said, “You shouldn’t have acted up the way you did. You could have been working green pastures by now instead of rotting away in these walls. Foolish child…”

With that, she disappeared into the concrete shelter. Elska fell silent, jaw slacked in surprise. So, the crew really bought Philippa instead. At this point, Elska couldn’t determine if they really intended to bring down Kelvingyard, or if they simply grew tired of her behavior and replaced her with a new crewman.

All she could do was wait and find out. She began rubbing her metal shackles together.

*

The plan was in motion. The Freelance Good Guys had no choice but to put their full trust in Philippa, or else Elska would be forever trapped in Evangeline’s grasp. They donned their full sets of mercenary armor and armed themselves to the teeth, just in case their plan fell apart.

Evan clanked about in heavy steel plates, wearing a shield on one arm and a sword on his hip. Glenvar wore a mix of plates, leathers, and heavy furs, with a shield and hammer as his weapon of choice. Lukas was the lightest on his feet, dressed in leathers with a bow and quiver on his back. Together, with Philippa’s terramancy, they felt they could handle just about anything Kelvingyard threw at them.

Philippa and the mercenaries returned to Kelvingyard the next morning, but not before stopping a peculiar shop along the way. They bought a pair of cheap brass shackles, painted to look like genuine iron slave binds. But they were only meant for roleplay games in the bedroom, and without iron, they would do nothing to block Philippa’s magic as she secured them to her wrists.

They were enough to fool Kelvingyard, at least for a while. The mercenaries led Philippa back through the front gates. They entered the lobby area and signed their fake names into the booklet.

“And what business do you have with us today?” asked the man sitting behind the front desk.

Evan gestured to Philippa, looming behind him like a tower, and replied, “We bought this one yesterday, but she’s got something wrong with her. We’d like to make an exchange, please.”

Within minutes, two officers escorted the mercenaries and their fake slave down a hallway. They entered a small, sparse room with a simple wooden door. “We just need to inspect the slave for damages, and then we’ll determine if you’re eligible for an exchange or refund,” explained one of the officers, already circling around Philippa with scrutiny. “What problems is it having, exactly?”

Glenvar replied casually, “Well, ya see, she’s got this nasty habit of kickin’ pricks in the head.”

The officer shot him an odd look, and an instant later, Philippa’s hind hoof crashed against his head. The clang of his helm reverberated sharply off the stone walls. The metal was mangled when his body hit the ground, blood flowing down his face.

The other officer drew his blowgun, but Philippa rammed her equine chest into him before he could use it. He was slammed against the wall, the wind sucked from his lungs as his ribs cracked under her weight. Glenvar quickly pulled the hammer off his back and bashed the man’s head. He went down like a stone.

Two officers lie dead before them. Lukas snapped, “Glen, that was way too loud! We were supposed to strangle them, not bludgeon them! Stick to the script!”

The shorter man just snickered, “But it was funny, yeah?”

“That was just fine,” said Philippa, looking down at the dead officers. A lively spark twinkled in her eyes. “Are you ready for phase two?”

Evan nodded, then passed his shield and cape to her. She draped the cape around her shoulders. It was a heavy, blue-colored thing of enchanted fabrics and chainmail within. His shield was made of wooden boards and strips of iron. The handle was made of brass, and so long as the iron wasn’t touching her flesh, Philippa could still cast her spells.

Philippa took in a deep breath. “The day for justice has arrived,” she said.

With that, she reared up and kicked the door down.

*


	3. Break Out

**[CHAPTER 3: BREAK OUT]**

Several officers made their way into the market pen late that morning. Elska expected them to start rounding up a chain gang to sell. Instead, they threw a lasso around her neck and dragged her towards the iron bars.

Elska tried to fight their pull, but the harder she resisted, the tighter the rope squeezed around her neck. Reluctantly she complied as they pushed her backside against the bars, holding her in place. She listened closely to their chatter.

“This one’s a fighter. Get it well secured,” one said.

“Doc wants at least two feet strapped,” said another. Elska then felt something close around her hind ankles. She twisted her torso around and saw them strapping her ankles to the bars with leather belts.

She was nearly immobilized when they were through. Her hands and front hooves were free, but that hardly mattered when her backside was pressed against the fence, too far for her humanoid arms to reach.

“Alright, brood mother is secured! Bring it in, Doc!” one of the officers called. Elska twisted around in the other direction to see behind her. She gasped at the sight of a massive, yellow-haired centaur approaching. He was healthy and well-muscled, his face covered in tattoos. One of her people?

No, she realized. He was of the same race, a shaghoof like her, but he was not One of Stone and Bone. His long hair and beard were yellow, but his equine fur was white like snow. The style of his tattoos did not match those of her clan. He was likely captured from the Shrieking Mountains just as she was, just not the same pocket where her people dwelled.

He looked back at her with a similar expression of shock as he was led along by four officers. His wrists were bound behind his back, hind hooves chained together closely enough that he could walk, but not run. Around his neck was an iron collar, where four chains were attached and clutched tightly in the hands of his keepers.

The fat man in the white coat trailed behind him, nagging the officers, “I rented this beast from some big-wig in Rivermere! It’s a purebred silver shaghoof, and it’s worth more than all your salaries put together! It better not have a scratch on it by the end of this, do you understand? Make sure that brood mother’s locked up tight; it’s got a nasty reputation!”

The officers tugged at the leather straps one last time, seeing that they were secure as they led the silver shaghoof towards the fence. Elska let out a ragged, furious scream and began thrashing against her binds. She pulled against the straps, rammed her behind against the bars, reached her clawing hands towards the officers, but it was no use. They only stood around her and laughed, whooping and howling their lewd commentary.

The silver shaghoof stopped in his tracks. Elska turned back to him, and he met her gaze with an apologetic, yet determined look in his eyes. The officers pulled at his chains, barking, “Come on, beast!”

“Keep moving!”

“Jump on that bitch and get on with it!”

The slaves in the market pen stood by, some averting their eyes while others watched with curiosity. They had all fallen silent. The officers pulled and pushed the silver shaghoof, but he dug his hooves into the dirt and refused to budge. He weighed even more than Elska, his bulk like the solid mountains they once called home.

The officers grew angrier as the seconds passed. One of them drew a bullwhip off his belt and drew his arm back, but the man in the white coat darted in front of him and growled, “Don’t you dare leave a mark on that thing! Its master is a crime boss, he’ll have my head!”

“What do you expect us to do then?” the officer exclaimed.

The man in the white coat reached over and ripped an electric cattle prod from another officer’s hands. “Use this instead!” he said, and then he jabbed its prongs into the male centaur’s hip.

The silver shaghoof let out a pained grunt, tried to kick his back foot out of reflex. But his chains held his legs closely together, protecting the officers around him. “I didn’t risk my neck so you could twiddle your thumbs, you stupid beast! Jump on that slave and make product, now!” urged the man in the white coat, trying to coax him with another shock.

The silver shaghoof gnashed his teeth and simply endured it, staring intensely into Elska’s eyes. Though they were not of the same clan, they were of the same heart, and there was an understanding between them in that moment. It was a mutual respect, a silent pact, an agreement that they would both endure whatever may come before they gave up their honor.

Elska’s spirit had been clinging to life just moments ago. Now it soared with the birds, for all was not lost. Her people had not given up. Their culture of honor lived on, even in the face of such terrible oppression.

Her silver friend squirmed and growled as the officers prodded him with jolt after jolt of painful shocks. “It’ll give in eventually! They always do!” exclaimed the man in the white coat.

Elska felt subtle vibrations in her hooves. She looked at the ground, perplexed as tiny pebbles began to jump. The vibrations grew stronger. It was enough to catch the attention of the officers, who stopped their prodding and looked at eachother with concern. The vibrations turned to quivers, then quakes.

“Earthquake! Everyone get down!” an officer shouted. All at once, slaves and slavers alike dropped to the ground. All of Kelvingyard’s operations came to a standstill, yet the compound itself was rocking to and fro with the land.

A fissure opened in the floor of the main lobby, spreading down the corridor to the sales field. It warped the walls in its path and the iron door broke down with a pile of stony rubble. Philippa exploded out of the open gap on thundering hooves. She ran out into the field and the ground split in her wake, its branches rapidly spreading all around the compound.

Branches of the fissure opened beneath officers immobilized on the ground. The officers disappeared in its depths, buried alive in an instant. Other branches spread to the imposing stone walls, which began to crack all the way up to their ends. The guards posted atop the quaking walls staggered and stumbled their way to the parapets, trying to aim their weapons at Philippa.

Their aim was miserable in the constant quake. Their arrows and tranquilizer darts flew off in odd directions. Philippa raised Evan’s shield to block an incoming arrow, then with a mighty stamp of her hoof, she sent a pulse through the earth.

The pulse raised chunks of rock in its wake, flinging dirt high into the air. It passed beneath the minotaurs’ pen. The iron bars, immovable by even the minotaurs’ muscles, warped like paperclips against the power of the pulse.

Kelvingyard erupted in panic and chaos. Officers struggled desperately to stop the intruder. They staggered towards her with weapons raised, but she only stomped in their direction and put them down. They either disappeared in sinkholes or were flung high into the air by rippling stone.

Evan, Lukas, and Glenvar made their way out to the field. Philippa steadied the earthquakes, partially to help her allies and also because she was struggling to maintain them. She felt her power already waning. If she was going to bring this place down, she had to prioritize her attacks wisely.

She wasn’t worried. She spent the last ten years planning out exactly how she would do that.

“Our slave got loose! It stole our gear!” cried Evan, making a show of their supposed innocence.

“Ya call this ‘security’?” Glenvar shouted to the bumbling officers around them. “I call it a feckin’ joke! Get that fat, old _stira_ under control!”

“Gentlemen, come with me! We must evacuate the compound at once!” called a familiar voice. They saw Mr. Zaleesha running towards them, flanked by several officers and frightened customers.

“We’re not going anywhere until we get our money back!” argued Lukas, poking the salesman in the chest. He gestured to Philippa, rampaging in the distance. “That’s _our_ property over there, and _your_ officers are trying to destroy her! What kind of service is this?”

“Sir, this is a serious emergency!” the roshava shouted back. He used all his arms to shove the mercenaries back towards the lobby. “We’ll sort that out later! We need to get to safety!”

The group gasped at a loud sound swelling from the gain wing. Mr. Zaleesha’s eyes rounded in horror as minotaurs began escaping their pen. The slaves filled the air with victorious, bovid bellows and charged down the corridor.

Fear rocketed through Mr. Zaleesha’s veins. In that instant, he abandoned the group and his job, scrambling away towards the lobby on his own. His customers trailed him in a flurry of screams, but the mercenaries headed in the opposite direction.

Philippa pulsed the earth beneath all the pens, jostling the slaves inside. The bars, too, were jostled until their supports loosened. The fences collapsed, one by one, and the slaves inside had to make a decision.

They saw the total chaos around them, they saw Kelvingyard’s loss of control, and most shocking: they saw a slave turn on her oppressors, fighting on the behalf of them all.

Long wails erupted from every pen in the compound. Shouts and howls of joy, anger, and excitement as the gaians broke free. They ran loose at great speeds, some charging straight for random officers to take their revenge, and others looking for an escape.

The mercenaries dodged the fleeing slaves as they made their way deeper into the gaian wing. They saw Elska just ahead, laying helplessly on her side. Her ankles seemed to be strapped to a section of collapsed fence.

“Hold on, Elska!” Evan called, and they rushed to her aid. Just before they reached her, something massive crashed into them from behind, knocking them down like dominoes. Their eyes rounded at the colossal, white-furred centaur looming over them.

He raised his shaggy hoof as if to stomp their heads in, then Elska screeched, “Stop! Do not harm them, they are my friends!”

The silver shaghoof froze, cocking his head at her. She yelled at him again, this time in her native tongue. Suddenly he obeyed and stepped away from the mercenaries. He trotted towards Elska, walking frantic circles around her. He looked as if he wanted to help, but his hands were bound behind his back and his hind legs were hooked together by a short chain.

He turned towards the mercenaries and grunted something in a language they didn’t understand. It sounded very similar to Elska’s language. Foreign language or not, they immediately understood that he was asking them to help her.

“Way ahead of you, buddy!” said Evan, and the trio scrambled towards her. The straps were but simple leather belts, and they were undone in seconds. Before she rose to her feet, Elska swiped Glenvar’s hammer out of his hand. She then let out a mighty cry and slammed it against the chain connecting her centauran friend’s ankles. The links shattered.

Finally he was free to run, and that he did. But not before pulling Elska into a crushing embrace. She embraced him back without a word. He then ran off towards the field, making a point to trample two officers in his path.

A fat man in a white coat was slowly making his way across the field. He huffed and puffed, sweat pouring down his pink face. He heard heavy hoofsteps and glanced behind him. The silver shaghoof was storming towards him like a one-man stampede, and all the man could do was cower and shriek before he was trampled to paste.

It was time for the final phase of her plan, thought Philippa, and she willed every bit of magic she had left to her hooves. Rearing up high, she stomped down with a mighty boom, sending a violent pulse shooting through the earth. It rocketed towards a thick, stone wall and caused an explosion of bricks and dust.

Kelvingyard’s security had completely lost control of the situation. Slaves outnumbered the officers fifty times over, and those officers which weren’t already being gored to death began to flee. Many of the slaves fled as well, straight through the hole Philippa blew in the wall. The busy streets of Kelvingyard Town lie beyond, and panic quickly spread through the townsfolk as free fae and gaians poured out into their midst.

The old and feeble—those once thought too sick to move—were suddenly invigorated with a newfound will to live. The great fault in the wall beckoned them. Officers were forced to watch helplessly as these frail slaves made their slow exit out of Kelvingyard. It was worth no one’s time to even recapture them.

The battle was over. Kelvingyard’s once impenetrable walls were left riddled with cracks, its interiors devastated, half of its officers dead or injured. The land was carefully inspected centuries ago before the compound was built, confirming that it was solid enough to hold the massive building. The same could not be said anymore.

Philippa’s spells devastated the integrity of the foundation. Selling every slave in its possession still could not pay for the damages she left in her wake, and now Kelvingyard was left with no slaves to sell. After ten years in the making, her plan was executed more smoothly than she ever imagined.

Making it out alive was never part of Philippa’s plan. She owed her life and her freedom to the Freelance Good Guys, who she pulled onto her equine back and carried out of the dilapidated compound. They dodged the chaos in the streets, quickly heading for the outskirts before the Evangeline Guard arrived.

Kelvingyard’s remaining officers roamed the barren yard in shock. They had never once seen it empty before, or in such a state of disrepair. To add insult to injury, they were startled by a sudden explosion from the break room. Gray smoke poured out from the fissures in the walls, and the light of orange flames flickered within.

One officer pulled off his helmet and pitched it to the ground in anger. “Ah, shit! There goes the damn generator! Where on Gaia is the fire patrol?” he shouted. Meanwhile, the warm glow of Kelvingyard Town began to dim. Streetlights flickered and windows went black.

The town was rapidly bleeding to death as its slaves escaped into the wilderness. They marched on and on, unstoppable in their sheer numbers. They followed the rising sun to the east, towards the sanctuary of Folkvar Kingdom.

*

After two days of travel, the Freelance Good Guys made it back to Drifter’s Hollow. They did not come alone, for hundreds of Kelvingyard refugees followed the same path through the Forest of Refuge. Others took alternate trails and bypassed the Hollow entirely, but all were determined to move further north, as far from Evangeline’s border as possible.

As for Elska, the Hollow was the end of the road. She found herself standing in her sparse little room at the boarding house, staring at the floor. She did not know what to do with herself anymore. She expected to return with her clan or not at all. Her clan was truly gone, unobtainable. Her quest for vengeance was complete, yet she still felt strangely empty inside.

Where was her pride? Why wasn’t she celebrating like everyone else?

She could hear the excitement outside the thin, wooden walls. She and the crew returned several hours ago and her cohorts were already getting everyone riled up for a party. Not knowing what else to do, Elska trudged out of the boarding house and decided to join them.

Everyone was gathering in the dining hall, mercenaries and villagers alike. They filled the long table with cuisine of all kinds before taking their seats. Elska was surprised to see Philippa there as well. Evan must have invited her, for he already offered her a room at the boarding house on the trip home. “Just until you can get on your feet. Er, hooves,” he told her.

Centaurs hardly needed chairs, so Elska parked herself on the floor beside Philippa near the end of the table. When the last of the guests sat down, Evan stood up. He tapped a knife against his beer stein, then the room fell silent when he announced, “It’s good to be home, friends! You may have noticed a lot of new faces in town since we arrived—”

“Yeah! What gives with all the vagrants?” blurted Itchy. His redheaded wife hushed him with a slap on the shoulder.

Evan continued, “Worry not! Most of them will be out of town by tomorrow. They are refugees from Kelvingyard, which I am happy to announce is no more!”

Murmurs swelled around the table. “What do you mean ‘no more’?” asked Skel.

Unable to contain his smile, Evan told them, “As of two days ago, Kelvingyard is out of commission! There was an earthquake in the region, which devastated the compound and led to the biggest jailbreak Evangeline Kingdom has ever seen! Their economy will ache for years to come. But most importantly, thousands of people have gained their freedom. One of them is this woman here.”

Evan swept a hand towards Philippa, who offered a meek wave to all the eyes suddenly upon her. “We were working in that region when the earthquake occurred, and we would not have made it home if it weren’t for Ms. Philly here. This feast is not only a celebration of Kelvingyard’s demise, but a celebration of this brave woman’s courage!”

Cheers, laughter, and sharp whistles exploded through the dining hall. Mercenaries pounded their fists on the table for the sake of making noise, rattling dishes and spilling beer. Itchy nearly fell out of his seat with wild laughter. He squeezed his wife tightly and hollered gleefully, “Eat shit and rot forever, you blue bastards! That’s what you get!”

Ginger began to sob into her hands. They were tears of joy and disbelief, and she was not the only one to shed them that evening. So many in that very dining hall had been affected by Evangelite tyranny in one way or another. The blue kingdom took a big hit, and Drifter’s Hollow was surely better off for it.

It was several minutes before the cheers died down. Once she could get a word over the excitement, Alaine called over the table, “Atty…you guys didn’t have anything to do with this, did you? I thought you were just there to buy some folks out!”

The table fell to dead silence, all eyes on Evan. The man hesitated. He occupied his mouth with his stein for a long moment. Finally, he decided, “I will not confirm nor deny anything related to this contract.”

His lips were sealed, but the sparkle in his eyes said it all. The room was filled with cheers once again, the captain’s crewmen rising from their seats to squeeze him. They tackled him to the floor, dumped their steins and soaked him with beer, chanting, “Free-dom! Free-dom! Free-dom!”

Alaine, Jeimos, Glenvar, and Mr. Ocean brought their instruments to the front of the room, where they began to play a lively tune. Guests matched it with lively dances, some climbing atop the table and caring not what they destroyed. Dishes could be replaced and messes could be cleaned, but none of the villagers could be replaced, so they cherished eachothers’ company all through the evening.

When the sky grew dark and the guests became sluggish with food and alcohol, they stumbled out of the dining hall and returned to their homes. The mess was tomorrow’s problem. Before they left the room, Elska asked Philippa, “Have you eaten enough? You may take as much as you wish.”

Philippa looked back at the food remnants on the table. There were only a few scraps left. Wearing a soft smile, Philippa replied, “I have eaten as much as I need. There’s no reason to gorge myself anymore.”

Elska nodded in understanding and the two left the hall together. Philippa had been given a very brief tour of the mercenary compound, but she had yet to see the lake. Elska decided to take her there before it got too dark, should she wish to bathe or fish tomorrow.

They followed the dirt path to the water, gently rippling in the breeze. Mosquitoes danced along its surface, bats swooping erratically to snatch them. They were not alone when they arrived. A young, chubby centaur stood by the lake’s edge, looking out at the water.

“Frederick,” greeted Elska. “You should not be out here by yourself. It is nearly dark!”

Frederick turned to her with a cheeky smile. “I’m not by myself. You guys are here!” he said. Elska regarded him with a stern frown.

Philippa smiled instead, said to him, “Ah, I saw you at the feast earlier! So Frederick is your name. Was that your father in there, with the white patches?”

“His name’s Olof,” replied Frederick. He turned back to the water.

Philippa nudged his pudgy belly with her knee and chuckled, “Your parents must be hard-working people. Keep eating like a king and you’ll be as big as me one day!”

Frederick wasn’t so amused. He rolled his eyes and groaned, “Uuugh, all my dad _does_ is work! He never has time to play with me…”

“Oh? And where is your mother?”

Frederick scratched at a mosquito bite on his arm as he mumbled, “She’s dead. ‘Vangelites killed her, I guess. That’s what dad says.”

A quiet moment passed. Elska glanced over and saw the lines on Philippa’s face deepen, looking upon the boy with pity. Lowering herself to the ground beside him, Philippa said, “You poor child. I have also lost people I love to the Evangelites. You are not alone, and neither am I. We met many friends at the feast, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, and none of them want to play with me!” the young centaur spat bitterly.

“I would be happy to play with you,” offered Philippa. “What game are you playing?”

Frederick turned to her, brows arched in surprise. “Really?” he queried. “Oh. Um, okay. I was playing sea captain, but my boat went too far and I can’t reach it.” He pointed out to the lake, where they could see a tiny shape bobbing on the surface. It was a wooden toy boat, topped with a little flag.

“I used to swim out there and get it, but…” He shuddered. “There’s a gross, old sea monster living in the lake now. He smells really bad and I saw him eat a duck once. I don’t go in the water anymore.”

“A sea monster?” queried Philippa.

Elska interrupted, “Frederick, Mr. Ocean is not a monster! He is a Freelance Good Guy and you will show him the same respect you show me.”

“But he’s _weird_ , Ms. Elska!” Frederick whined, bouncing on his knees.

Philippa looked out at the boat. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll get your boat for you,” she said, and then she stamped her hoof against the pebbly shore. A magical pulse shot out from her hoof, rolling beneath the pebbles before hitting the water.

Frederick’s jaw dropped as a mighty ripple tore over the water’s surface, heading straight for his boat. The toy shot up into the air, then splashed back down. It slowly rode the current towards the shore, until Frederick tromped through the shallow water to retrieve it.

He whipped his head towards Philippa and exclaimed, “How did you do that, lady?”

“It’s just magic, that’s all.”

“Magic? Really? Can you teach me?”

“Of course I can!” Philippa paused, then added, “Well, as long as it’s alright with your father. Let’s be sure to ask him first.”

Elska turned her gaze towards the sky. Faint stars looked down at her through the treetops, twinkling in the near-black sky. “It is getting too dark now, little one,” she told the boy. “Go home before the wild animals come out to hunt.”

“Aww…okay,” said Frederick, already trotting down the trail. “I’ll come find you tomorrow, Ms. Philly! I’ll ask my dad about the magic lessons!”

“Please do! And be careful on the way home!” Philippa waved goodbye, watching the boy disappear around the corner. “What a sweet boy,” she said to Elska.

“He is a menace,” Elska told her flatly. “If you stay in the Hollow, you will find out soon enough.”

Philippa lowered herself onto the shore, resting her aching knees. The walk from Kelvingyard had been hard on her. So too had the last ten years in its walls.

“I don’t think I have any choice but to stay,” she admitted. “After what I pulled back there, bounty hunters are going to comb all of Noalen for me. I never planned on living long enough to have this problem, but…” She shrugged. “Here it is! I bet my bounty is even higher than my market price. I don’t even know what to do with myself now.” She almost laughed, but her brow was knit with anxiety.

Elska relaxed beside her and said, “I am wondering the same. I thought I would rescue my clan and return to Loreham, or die trying. I spent the last three years focused on finding my clan, only for them to reject me when I did. I was a fool. My clan was here all along.”

She gestured back down the path, vaguely towards the dining hall. “Those men stopped at nothing to rescue me. They risked their lives for me. They are good and honorable men, most worthy of a place in the stars.”

“Will you still return to Loreham?” asked Philippa.

Elska shook her head. “No. I have decided to stay. My home is here now, and these are my people. I will spend the rest of my days protecting this place. I shall not let it fall as I let Loreham fall.”

With a slow, contemplative nod, Philippa replied, “I see. That’s a noble plan. I think I will do the same, if it’s alright with your people.”

“ _You_ are my people, Big Philly,” Elska told her, clapping a heavy hand on her shoulder.

Philippa’s brown eyes sparkled in the starlight. “I am honored to be,” she said.

The two sat together by the water in silence, watching the bugs and bats disappear with the last rays of sunlight.

“Parissa and Petilla,” Philippa said wistfully. Elska turned to look at her, tilting her head. Offering a gentle smile, Philippa clarified, “Those were the names of my daughters. My beautiful twin babies. I could not forget them, no matter how hard I tried.” Her smile faded. “My mind is so much clearer since I left Kelvingyard. I realize now that our loved ones are never to be forgotten. What a cowardly notion, to run from grief! We should honor them in our hearts, always.”

Elska showed her a single, solid nod. “That is the honorable way,” she agreed. “Your daughters have not forgotten you. They watch over you from the stars, just as my mother and father are watching over me. Your daughters look upon you with pride. Their mother is most courageous and strong!”

Philippa let out a quiet laugh, soft and genuine. “Your parents are proud of you too, Elska. I know they are, because I have mothered many before. I would be proud to call you my child. May our deaths be honorable, and may we reunite in the stars.”

*

For the first time in a decade, Philippa woke at her leisure. There were no alarms in the Hollow, no slaves or slavers to kick her awake, and how she spent her time was entirely up to her. The notion was so overwhelming, she remained paralyzed in her room until someone knocked on the door.

She threw on a cotton shirt, donated to her by one of the villagers, and called, “Come in!”

The door creaked open. Frederick stepped inside, his chubby face dragged down by a frown. “Hi, Ms. Philly,” he mumbled. “My dad said I’m not allowed to learn magic. He said I’m ‘not responsible enough’…”

“Oh,” Philippa replied sullenly. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Perhaps he’ll change his mind when you’re older?”

“Well, he wants to talk to you about something else too. Come on, I’ll take you to him.”

Curious, Philippa quickly combed her fingers through her hair before she left the boarding house. She followed Frederick down the dirt road leading out of the mercenary compound. After a while, they arrived at a large, box-like house made of logs. Olof was standing in front of it, speaking with Elska.

Philippa approached them. “Hello, Mr. Olof. You wanted to see me about something?”

Olof regarded her with a friendly smile when he replied, “Yes! It is good to meet you. I am Olof of Kaldenfel, and I am a carpenter. Ms. Elska tells me she wants to build a house in the village. I want to ask if you would like one too. I have already marked many sites with good soil. Ms. Flora says you may choose any of them.”

Philippa’s thick eyebrows shot up, wrinkling her forehead above. “You’re willing to build me a house? You must be kidding, I only just got here!”

“It is no trouble. I like to do it,” Olof assured her. “But I am only one person, so if you will help me, I can build much faster. I need much wood and stone to be gathered first, and then I will build. One longhouse like mine takes three months, if weather is good.”

“Well, sure! Yes, of course!” blurted Philippa. She took Olof’s hands and squeezed them. “You are a very generous man, Mr. Olof! Thank you so much. I will gather any materials you need, and don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything in the future. Anything at all.”

Olof chuckled, “I need nothing. The village is good to me. Come, I will show you the sites now.”

The four centaurs travelled to different points along the main road, tromping through the bushes to see sections of land that Olof had marked with lengths of colorful twine. Elska chose a site not far from Olof’s house, where the land was already logged and prepared. Philippa, however, chose a more obscure site off the beaten path.

It was somewhere around the north side of town, deep into the woods where the stench of the cesspit couldn’t reach. “Ah, yes,” said Olof. “This is a nice place. Very quiet, close to berry forage and creek. Good, healthy soil for planting.” He paused. “Um, there is just one troubling thing about this site…”

“Yes?” queried Philippa.

Olof waved his hand towards the forest before them as he explained, “The trees must be cut first. This is very old growth, very hard wood. It will take a long time to cut them, and a long time to remove the wood. Two extra months, perhaps.”

“I see,” Philippa muttered slowly, scratching thoughtfully at her chin. Then she said brightly, “Or perhaps not! Stand back, everyone. Behind me, please.”

The other centaurs obeyed, though they did not know why until Philippa reared up and stamped her magical hooves down. A single violent tremor quaked the ground below, creating a deafening sound.

The pulse rolled the ground in its wake as it shot across the site, as if a colossal rabbit were tunneling through. It loosened every root in the area in an instant, and then they heard creaking, whorling, crackling sounds from the canopy. The massive old trees wobbled to and fro.

Philippa stamped one of her hooves, sending a smaller pulse throughout the site. It rippled the land from a certain angle, ensuring that the trees all fell in one direction. Five trees toppled away from the centaurs, shaking the ground with every deafening impact.

Birds fled into the sky in a swarm of tweets, then the forest was quiet once again. Olof stared at the site through wide, unblinking eyes. The once grassy soil had been turned over like a rolling pin, leaving nothing but flat dirt behind. The trees’ massive, intricate roots lie exposed to the air, ready for chopping.

“Wow, wow, wow! That was amazing! Dad, did you see what she did?” exclaimed Frederick, jumping about excitedly. Olof still couldn’t believe his eyes. He could barely blink them either.

“That takes care of some of the work, right?” queried Philippa.

Olof took a moment to answer, still mesmerized. Finally he nodded and said, “Er, one extra month for chopping and hauling. That is all.”

Philippa eyeballed the mess of fallen trees. “Less than that,” she decided. “I can move most of this stuff myself in a week. Where do you want the wood?”

“I have a workshop in the village. I will make planks of this wood there and use them to build your house.” Olof quirked an eyebrow at her and asked, “Do you know anything about carpentry, Ms. Philly?”

“Me? Oh, no. I’m just a simple ditch-digger.” Philippa paused, then added, “But I’m willing to learn, if you’re willing to teach me.”

Brows arching, Olof said, “Yes, yes! The village has grown larger since I arrived. Many new things must be built, but I cannot do it all alone. I work, work, work every day. No time for anything else. If I have help, I can spend more time with my son as I should be.” He reached over and rustled Frederick’s shaggy hair.

“Wonderful! I’d be happy to help you!” Philippa smiled. “Under just one condition…”

“What is that?”

“You teach me carpentry…” she began, tipping her head towards Frederick. “…and I get to teach Frederick terramancy. What do you say?”

Frederick gasped, eyes blown wide. He clasped his hands together and begged his father, “Yes! Please, dad? Say yes! Please, please, pretty-please!”

Olof opened his mouth to decline, but he simply couldn’t commit to a hard ‘no’. He closed his mouth and let out a sigh through his nostrils, scrubbing at the bridge of his pointed nose. His son was a menace. The whole village knew it, and Olof knew he was only that way because he did not spend enough time mentoring the boy.

Frederick had been running loose for most of his life without a mother or father to guide him. Perhaps with more free time, Olof could give him the attention he needed. Perhaps with Philippa’s guidance, he would become more responsible. Or perhaps this would only load a canon with a sparking fuse, he thought.

“I was not familiar with magic until I joined the mercenaries,” mentioned Elska. “I believed it was a dark and dangerous thing, meant only for fae. Now I understand that it is a most respectable craft. Big Philly is wise. She is strong of will and honorable of heart. She will not allow Frederick to use magic improperly.”

Olof considered her words, turning them over in his head as he looked between Philippa’s patient smile and Frederick’s pleading eyes. At last, he sighed, “Very well. You may teach him your magic. I just hope I do not regret this…”

Frederick cheered and jumped for joy, running all around the open site. Philippa laughed, “You won’t regret it, Mr. Olof. I’m told I’m good with children.”

**END**

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a kudos if you enjoyed the story, and any kind of feedback is always appreciated.
> 
> Welp, Evangeline Kingdom finally got knocked down a few pegs. What does this mean for Folkvar Kingdom? What does it mean for the fae and gaians of Noalen? We will find out in future stories, so be sure to subscribe to the series if you want updates from Ao3!


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